Q&A: household help

Answering a few of Jan's questions about how our Nanny relationship came to be. We have always hired our own help, usually based on a personal recommendation and interview. When we were making arrangements to move to Abu Dhabi I was looking to hire someone part time, since at this stage of life I have very limited babysitting needs (I can usually rely on one of my 3 built in babysitters), but it turns out that the law here requires that household help be sponsored and employed full time. No part time labor is allowed. Sponsorship means that you are vouching for this individual and are responsible for them and their actions while they are in the UAE. Each year you pay for their residency visa, medical exams, and immigration fees (which add up to almost 5 thousand dollars). It's a big financial commitment up front.

This is a good thing in that it is intended to cut down on human trafficking and slave labor situations. The law also determines a minimum salary and benefits, including housing, medical insurance, and vacation time/flight home. I'll just say that this is a great requirement, but it doesn't always work out that way in real life. There are endless sad stories of mistreatment, abuse, and nonpayment of help. 

A few months before arriving we received a message from a family living in our future neighborhood, asking if we were interested in sponsoring household help. They had a nanny who had been with them for 4 years and had recently brought her younger sister to the UAE to help her find a job. They wanted to place her in a house in the same compound so the sisters could be close together. 

We agreed to give her a go on a trial basis and so far, so good. If it didn't work out, as her sponsors we would be required to make sure that she is transferred to another sponsor or to send her home. We couldn't just dismiss her from employment because we are responsible for her while she's under our visa. Overall the perks have been worth the expense and the minor headaches that pop up here and there. And it's to Nanny's benefit to work here since she can earn in one month more than the average person earns in a year in her home country. I know she desperately misses her baby (a boy who is almost 2 years old), but so many women make this sacrifice to financially assist their families. I don't know how they do it emotionally, but it's what many families all over the world do as routine. The younger ones work, leaving children in the care of the grandparents, then eventually they become the grandparents caring for babies while their children go off to work abroad. 

Thanks for the idea for a topic Jan! (yes, Kristy. I know I owe you a post about my new house now that my things have arrived . . . I haven't forgotten.) 

Amelia Bedelia, PS

After I published my last post I went out for the afternoon and came home to this: 

It looks like it might be time for another tutorial. We've gone over which soap to use in the dishwasher before, but . . . 

I've got nothing. 

Amelia Bedelia

Let me preface this post by saying that I am eternally grateful that I can hire someone to help me out around the house. All these marble and tile floors that need to be mopped daily because of the sand and dust and the 6 bathrooms alone would quickly become my nightmare without major assistance. Thankfully, I have that. But along with the help comes some headaches . . .

I was looking for two books this morning. Books that I know I left on the floor next to my bed because I was reading before I went to sleep and there's not room on my teeny tiny nightstand to put them up. But now they're gone. If I were straightening up, where would I put them? And so the hunt begins . . . trying to put myself in the mind of someone who is from another culture, who I don't know very well, who may or may not understand me if I ask her a question.

Sometimes I put things in places that might not make sense to someone else, but it's exactly how I want it.  Like the old pitcher that I have tucked under the entryway bathroom sink because I use it to water the plants out front since it's easier than dragging the hose out from the garage. 50% of the time the pitcher gets put back in one of the lower kitchen cupboards and I have to track it down before I can start watering. One time I asked Nanny to water the pots in the front of the house and I came home to baby seedlings that looked like they had been through a hurricane -- battered and bruised and lying over in the dirt. I think she must have turned the hose on them full blast and that was that. (Thankfully I was able to rescue most of them by propping them back up and supporting the stems with extra soil.)

She's a mad washer -- she puts everything in the washing machine. I opened it today to find one of my decorative pillows in shreds because she had put it in with a bunch of heavy towels. I'm not even sure why she thought a pillow that sat on the back of the couch, mostly untouched, needed to be washed in the first place. Too bad it was one of my favorites, from a trip to Turkey. No big loss though in the grand scheme of things, but I do feel like I have to go around "rescuing" things. Like the kids' lunch boxes that can easily be rinsed out in the kitchen sink. I found them in the pile to be washed and brought them downstairs and rinsed them myself.

I wore a wool sweater for about 10 min before bed, laid it on a bench in my room and it disappeared back into the wash. Combine our hard super hot water with a dryer that scorches with blistering heat and my clothes are looking old after 2 months. I hung up my sweater on the coat rack so it wouldn't get washed (I'm terrible about hanging things up so this was an extra effort I made to keep her from washing it) and the next morning it was gone. I asked if she knew where it was and, sure enough, it was back in the laundry basket to be washed. I did have a conversation with her about how I would put things in my dirty clothes basket if I want them to be washed and that seems to have helped. It doesn't solve the problem for the rest of the household, but I can only tackle one thing at a time. Next up will be explaining that not all of Camille's knit clothes or fancy dresses can go in the dryer. 

Some of my white towels are now baby blue after she washed them with one of my dark blue couch throws. Thankfully they were older ones that I don't care about. I pointed it out and I hope that she won't make that mistake again. It's all trial and error at this point though. (Most of our clothes don't really need to be sorted by color, but I might have to ask her to do it just because of the few things that do.) My last laundry pet peeve -- she leaves wet laundry overnight in the washing machine. I've started checking the washing machine before bed every night and moving the clothes to the dryer so they don't get mildewy smelling after sitting wet for hours. I think she's catching on because last night she piled the wet clothes on top of the dryer before bed instead of leaving them in the machine. Baby steps. 

The language barrier is a thing -- I think she understands, and she always says, "Yes, Madame. Of course, Madame," but then come to find out that she maybe doesn't exactly understand what I meant. When the movers delivered our stuff I asked her to help open the boxes when they brought them upstairs. When I made it upstairs after the truck was completely unloaded, the masses of boxes were all siting in stacks in every room of the house and she was fluffing pillows and straightening stuffed animals on one of the kids' beds. A perfect example of rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic if I've ever seen one. I asked her about opening the boxes and she said, "I did!" And proceeded to show me how she had cut open the top of every box . . . and then just left them like that. Totally my fault for not being more clear or specific, though I could have sworn I said something about unpacking. But maybe not, since I was busy trying to check items off the inventory sheet as the movers brought boxes inside.

During the unpacking process I asked her to put all of my Starbucks mugs in the china cabinet. Meanwhile I packed up and put away all the loaner embassy wine glasses and dishes inside a cupboard, out of the way, to be returned at the end of our tour. 24 hours later I come home to find all of my mugs in the storage cupboard and all embassy dishes in the china cabinet. I think she wants things to look nice, but if I put things in a certain place, I sort of expect them to stay there. (I sent a few exasperated texts to Josh and put things straight myself, grumbling and missing Josie the entire time.) 

Similarly, in the garden I placed my pots and planters for maximum sun exposure, but Nanny moved them so they would act as a border for the patio. It was a great looking border, but my tomatoes were getting shaded by the house. In the front yard I arranged my potted plants on the front walkway, in full sun, but she moved them so they lined both sides of the front steps. It feels like a passive aggressive dance, with no words exchanged, but I put things in place, she moves them, and I move them back where I want them. Each time she seems to have gotten the message and hasn't moved them again. I only have about 300 more items in my house that we will probably place and replace. I guess we'll have come to a happy agreement by the time we leave 18 months from now.  

Nice layout visually, but not what the plants need

BUT she can cook. Just like Amelia Bedelia in the comical kiddie series, great food covers a multitude of sins. We've worked out a good system and she cooks 3 nights per week. I give her money in the morning, she walks to the grocery store and buys the ingredients (thankful that we have a grocery store right around the corner so I don't have to go with her) and she cooks whatever she wants. I'm happy leaving the menu planning to her since we will eat anything. Win. Win. Win. 

Some favorites from the past two months are lasagna (with a Greek flavor profile, not Italian), meatballs wrapped in cabbage simmered in tomato sauce, garlic lentils served on pasta, sweet potato frittata, ginger beef or chicken with corn fritters, white fish with lemon butter and spring onions -- there hasn't been a single meal that was a bust. She cooks with a lot of ginger, garlic, Thai sweet chili sauce, and her seasoning is spot on. Enough salt, enough heat and deep flavors from long and slow cooking. 

It makes it a lot easier to overlook a few crushed plants, rearranged carpets (that I put back where they belonged, of course), and battered clothing when I'm feasting on ginger chicken. 2 months in and things are getting better. My house is pristine, everything is dusted and straightened up regularly, even my underwear is folded and lined up like a rainbow in my drawer, and hopefully she has a job that she's happy with. We'll work out the laundry quirks and our communication in English will hopefully improve with time. 

Culture shock

This week the boys have been waking up early for school and streaming the Dodgers playing in the National League championships (against the Cubs) as they get dressed, have breakfast and wait for the bus. I was walking through the room this morning, on my way to let the dog out, and I see Camille peering into the computer screen as the voiceover recites: "If you have an erection lasting more than 4 hours, see a doctor."

Commercials!! Did I tell you we don't have those here? We have breaks in TV shows (usually not at the prescribed commercial breaks), but our "commercials" are generally previews for upcoming TV shows, a call to prayer, or administrative cable TV notices. I have seen an occasional ad for this laundry detergent that keeps your black abayas from fading and last week I saw an Emirati family smiling around a fried fish after mother had sprayed Febreeze in the air to get rid of the cooking odors, but they're not the norm. And they're in Arabic so it feels more like a game than an ad, as I try to figure out what they are saying.

I had taken for granted the joy of not being marketed to, told what I "needed," and shouted at. And the gift of not hearing about "long lasting erections" at every turn.

Go Dodgers!

Save the drama for your mama

Meels and I have had quite a week. Right when we got school sorted out, life shifts again and Daddy leaves. I don't have the sympathy that I should because I compare Josh's travel now to our early days of marriage when the boys were little and think, "This is nothing!" But in her world, Daddy being home is normal and everything gets thrown off kilter when he is away. 

He's only deployed once for 2 1/2 months since she's been born and traveled for a month here and there for various exercises when we lived in Bahrain (and some years traveled quite a bit), but I guess on top of all the change from this move, Daddy traveling now is a bridge too far. 

She was being a total brat to me -- eye rolling, huffing, and "fine!" as she stomped off when I asked her to help out with something over the weekend. A small request to help pick up branches in the yard became screaming about not having work gloves, pestering her brothers, and flopping on the ground. She refused to nap, screeching "I'm not tired." But 5 minutes down the road, her body betrayed her. 

I know she loves to write, but I'm sure the next people that receive this furniture aren't going to be thrilled that their desk is already labeled with someone else's name (we were able to get the pencil marks off, thankfully). 

Credit where credit is due, she is now going off to school with a smile. 

Don't let the sweatshirt fool you. It's still hot here. High 90s and the humidity kicks in mid afternoon, but since it's only 80 when the bus comes at 7am, she finds it chilly. Note the bare feet on Carter in the background. He was busy trying to catch the end of the Dodger game before the bus came. Baseball before shoes. 

I know she uses up all of her "good behavior" at school and then lets down once she gets home, but we are not going to last long if she keeps this up. Yesterday's meltdowns were because I told her she couldn't watch TV or play on her iPad. When she finally recovered she asked if I would take her swimming. Yes, I love it when people yell at me and tell me that I'm the Meanest Mom Ever and then ask me for things. 

But we walked over to our compound pool and she swam.

like a fish.

A picture perfect evening. And then she proceeded to stomp her way home because I wouldn't buy her an ice cream bar at the mini mart. La di dah, Princess Camille. 

Then she was going to take a bath, but didn't want her brother to turn on the water for her (too bad, don't take a bath then), screamed at me because I sent her to bed without a bath, then ran her naked self down the hall into my bathroom and locked herself in, saying "I'm not budging!" "You're a stupid mommy!" Hmm, what else? Eventually Daddy responded to my emergency SOS iMessage and called to talk his Princess down off the ledge.  

I also love it when a 6 year old gives me advice on how to have successful interpersonal relationships. #apology? 

It's funny to see how the boys react to her when she's on a tear. Calvin gets defensive of me, gets mad at Camille and makes things worse by trying to tell her how she should behave. That doesn't go over very well with her. Carter disappears and doesn't even notice that anything is wrong and Caleb hangs on the fringes, laughs and shakes his head, saying, "She's crazy." 

This morning she woke up throwing up so I'm her best friend as I catch puke in my hands (gotta save the carpets), hold back her hair, bring her 7up, and let her watch Anna and Elsa doll videos on YouTube. (It's a thing and it's super-weird, but she loves it. People act out things with dolls just like you would playing on your own, but they film them and put them on YouTube. You've Been Warned)

Hope Princess Camille enjoys her Queen for a Day status, because tomorrow it's back to being Cinderella with the super-mean mom! 

mundane details

Thanks for the encouragement that saying something is better than saying nothing at all. You all may come to regret those words . . .

Josh is off in America this week for work. I'm happy that he gets to go, but I'm happier that I get to stay and finally feel settled in our house. I know it was hard for him to pack up and head out right as we finished the last of the unpacking of the boxes. We have a few more things to hang on the wall, but I'm out of supplies. Hanging on cement is a pain in the behind -- we have special hooks with needle-like nails that are supposed to go into the concrete without breaking it up, but we've been having about a 50% success rate in this house. And I've had to strategically place a few photos to cover up some of the crumbling holes in the wall where they failed. Whoops.

My mom requested photos of my garden. Here's what I have so far. The big pots are beans, squash, chard, and some other seeds that I forget, but will recognize when they pop through the dirt's surface. The smaller pots are for baby lettuce and basil. The stuff that is already growing are my chili, tomato and eggplant transplants that I got at the nursery. And a big pot of mint. 

I need to grow some more herbs here because they always look wilty and sad in the grocery store. In Bahrain, they were all grown locally so we had lots of cheap beautiful parsley, mint, basil, dill, and cilantro in lush bunches for a quarter apiece. The herbs here look like they've been transported by camel in the desert sun and they all smell vaguely alive, but not appealing. When I get another 10 bags of dirt I can fill my other pots and plant parsley, spinach and cilantro. (Basil and mint are already on their way.)

Looking down on my L-shaped yard (it continues on another 20 feet down the side of the house). In the sunny spots in the dirt next to the fence I have sunflowers, squash and tomato seeds planted. Hoping they grow in the sand.  

Meels has this yucky loose tooth that has been hanging for almost 2 months. I've been willing it to come out since she won't let me touch it. It's turning gray. 

Meanwhile every other tooth is dropping out of her face -- ones that weren't even loose a few weeks ago. The tooth fairy gives her 10 dirham (about $2.75). She told me she thought the tooth fairy should bring her 100 dirham ($27). Maybe if that terrible top tooth ever comes out . . . 

More changes today. Gum chewing gone wrong. I cut it all out and then evened out the ends. She probably lost 5 inches of length. 

Saturdays are for yard work, right? Our compound has neglected our yard so we decided to take matters into our own hands. The boys were happy to hack away at this dead tree, removing all of the dried out branches. 

We have plenty of dry wood for a future bonfire. The kids broke it down and are storing it for when we get a fire pit. Too bad I have one of those in storage . . . 

Yard work completed, we are headed to the ambassador's house this afternoon for an embassy BBQ. A "Welcome Back Now That It's Not A Million Degrees Outside and We Can Get Together Outside" party. I think I know maybe 5 families out of over 200 people, so we'll see how this goes. 

The people have spoken

Well, 4 people have spoken. I'll keep looking for things to write about as long as it's not annoying for readers to wait in between posts. If I'm not going to do something well, I'd rather not do it at all, but today I had a friend reference a post that I wrote 3 years ago so I took that as a sign that there's still value in doing this.

I had mentioned to her that moving to Abu Dhabi felt like living in California and she said I was just hanging out in the "fancy" parts of town and there was plenty of crazy happening over the bridge in the outer parts of Abu Dhabi. I guess I'll have to check out some of those off island areas eventually, if I can find my way there.

I left our coffee date and headed up to the port area so I could buy some dirt for my garden. I have yard space, but it's essentially just sand, so I'll still need to plant in my pots while I attempt to create a good balance of dirt and sand in the ground -- it's all part of the gardening experiment. I made it there with only one major wrong turn. That's something to celebrate since Google Maps seems to hate me, always telling me to turn right and then changing its mind at the last second, or telling me to turn left and then promptly requests, "Now make a U-turn." I hate it, but I'd be even more lost without it.

I got my dirt from the plant souk, which is a block of stalls, all selling potted plants, ceramic pots, potting soil and other garden and greenery related items. I had been there once before with a friend so I went back to stall number 40 and said, "Remember me? I'd like some dirt." It's always better to have a contact or a prior relationship when trying to make a deal.

I finished my shopping quickly and he loaded my 10 bags of potting soil and several tomato, chile, eggplant and mint transplants. I have seeds, but these will give a few things a head start. Feeling pleased with myself, I headed home and promptly went the wrong way. My app that has a Take Me Home button wasn't working and I couldn't pull over anywhere to find my house on Google Maps. So in my attempt to "wing it" I made several wrong turns and ended up somewhere parallel to where I needed to be.

I headed down the street when a car started heading at me, flashing his lights, driving the wrong way. I thought to myself, "Kate was right! There are some crazy drivers on other parts of the island." And then another car came around the corner straight at me and I realized I was the crazy driver going the wrong way down a one way street. I quickly pulled into a parking lot (thankful there was one right ahead so I could get off the road) and got my bearings.

To prove that I'm not a terrible driver, as I was sitting and looking at the map, another car did the same thing. Silver sedan is backing up as the 3 cars in the photo all honked at him and flashed their lights -- it made me feel a little less ridiculous. It's not marked and there's construction barriers all over so I'm not sure how anyone is supposed to know which way to go. 

Google hating me -- why are you trying to take me out of the way to the left and back around when I should be able to go straight ahead and turn right to get on the main highway home? It's why you bug me. Anyway, I made it home, planted my garden and vowed to do better next time I venture out. 

This was the smile I got on the way to school. 

And the flopping and crying that happened after school when I told her she couldn't have the Arabic sweets that daddy had brought home the night before. Technically we were arguing over whether there is protein in the dates that she had for snack at school since I told her she had to have protein to balance out the sweets she had already eaten. She finally ate some grilled halloumi (her favorite cheese) and bounced back from the edge of hysteria as soon as it hit her stomach.

I'd say the cat is loving life here in Abu Dhabi. Hoping I can relax like this soon (only in my lounge chair and not in the bushes). 

Turning the corner

Camille came home from school on Sunday and proudly declared, "I didn't cry at all today! No tears and no puffy eyes." Let's ignore the fact that school started in August and it's now October and it took that long to get to a tear free day. God bless Ms. Hamid, Miss Lea (the bus lady), and me. (And the teacher's aid and the Arabic teacher and the music teacher and her friends and anyone else who was part of The Crying Game these past few months.)

She still prefers Bahrain and at every turn compares her old school to her new one. "In Bahrain we didn't have to go to school in January." (Yes, she did.) "In Bahrain, my school was a lot shorter." (She gets home at 4 instead of 3:10, so it is a little longer.) "In Bahrain I saw my brothers every day and at my new school I never see them." (That is true, but probably the only thing that is truly better about her old school compared to this one.)

It reminds me of when Mom and Dad moved us from Oakland down to Laguna Niguel in Orange County. We loved Oakland and didn't want to leave, but to someone looking in from the outside they would have assumed we were happy to be rescued from the ghetto and dropped into the middle of Southern California paradise. Complaints like, "There are too many white people here" or "How many Target strip malls do you need right next to each other?" or "All these houses look alike. It's boring." might have seemed crazy to them, but it made perfect sense to us.

I'm not sure how much more I'm going to be able to blog. Abu Dhabi is the Laguna Niguel of the Middle East. Or Beverly Hills 90210 without the drama. I drive around and it looks like a flat version of Crown Valley Parkway. Perfectly timed stoplights intersecting palm tree lined streets with housing developments and gated communities tucked away on the side streets. Shopping malls everywhere. No Target, but we have Jamba Juice, Five Guys, Baja Fresh, Old Navy, Gap, Victoria's Secret, Cold Stone, Chili's and any other chain you could possibly want. Except Chipotle and In N Out. Everything is so normal.

After 4 years in Bahrain, life there seemed a little pedestrian, but moving here is almost a transplant to the US, with the added advantage of being removed from political news. And people wear a bit more clothing here than in CA. Or maybe a lot more clothing, it's been a while since we've been back. Camille was pointing out the v-neck cut in her swimsuit and saying, "This is too low. It shows too much of my . . . you know." Yes, your collarbone? That's perfectly all right. I don't think your Land's End swimsuit is too risqué. #MiddleEastproblems

I have funny family stories, but they aren't just mine to share anymore. I have one about a kid who was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do and then the way he attempted to fix the situation was not what I envisioned when I coached him through the plan . . . it was easier when they were younger and didn't care that I was writing about them.

Putting that out there so I don't leave anyone hanging. I either need new material or a pair of fresh eyes. Or a private blog so I can write all the stories now and then release them when the kids are grown and don't care anymore.

I'm almost finished unpacking -- the bomb dropped a week ago and I'm 96% finished. I haven't found a place for everything yet, even after buying out half of IKEA to store all the kids' treasures and Josh's clothes. But I'm really close. Daily life is the kids at school, me trying to get myself to the gym (I'm only averaging 2 days/week right now), and then we have Rugby, swimming lessons, soccer, Awana, home group bible study and other activities spread throughout the week. For the first time they aren't all doing the same thing so it feels different having everyone going in different directions. Caleb is rugby, Calvin is soccer, Carter and Camille are swimming . . . thankfully we have both an after school activities bus and a cheap taxi system so that cuts down on some of the extra driving.

Working on making this place home. I'm content, but still looking for a purpose. And something to write about.

Exotic eating

Since we still haven't gotten our HHG (household goods), we're in a bit of a slump when it comes to eating at home. Because we can order anything and everything to be delivered (McDonald's, KFC, and Lebanese "Chipotle," were all this past week) at the last minute it's easier to pick up the phone at the end of the day than head into the kitchen. Especially when the kids eat through anything I buy like a school of piranhas, it's a bit difficult to keep the pantry stocked with things I want to cook. 

In anticipation of our things arriving this week we headed to the big grocery store today. The variety of products available here rivals anything in the US. Kamut, quinoa, spelt and all the other trendy not-grains, organic everything, and alternative milks for every kind of diet -- including camel milk. I'm sure some of it is more expensive than in the US, but I can't be sure since it's been over 3 years since I've been to a US grocery store. 

But unless the US has changed drastically in that time, I know you can't find these items on the shelf at Safeway: beef hearts, lamb feet, cow feet, beef kidneys, lamb hearts and brains and more of the interesting animal cuts. (I only bought the lamb feet because I'm going to give them to the dog as a chew.)

More exotics: banana flowers, tapioca, and the brown things on the front left that I can't identify. I'm completely clueless with a lot of the produce at the store and often wish I had a cultural expert who could tell me what things are and how to cook them. Since the UAE is populated with cultures from around the globe (estimates are that only 10-20% are Emirati) there are specialty food items from everywhere. My favorite exotic discovery was on the Russian food aisle where we found fantastic sour pickles and a spicy red pepper paste called Ajvar.

After we pick out our produce items, we have to have it weighed by people working in the produce department before heading to the checkout counters in the front of the store. It's always a pain when I go to pay and find that a bag of cilantro or chiles was hidden under the bread and missed getting weighed. Then it's either run back to the counter myself to get the price sticker or sometimes the checker will send the bagger back to have the item weighed. Either way, sorry to the people behind me! 

The photo above shows what happens when I'm not paying attention -- someone keyed in the wrong code and I was charged $57 for 2 eggplant. Oops. Groceries are expensive here, but not that outrageous. Luckily it was an easy stop at customer service for a refund. 

We may have access to a great variety of food, but when looking for a toilet plunger, the choices are sorely lacking. The only ones we've found have a 12 inch handle and look like they are made for a doll sized toilet. I guess we'll have to shop for home goods at the hardware store.

Only 2 more days until our move begins/finishes! I'm tired of being in limbo!