The “Yaya” Struggle

So my two household help (I shall refer to them as “kasambahays” from here on out) arrived today and I lost it. I was able to keep it together until we stopped for gas and then the waterworks started. Up until that point, I was actually awash with relief that finally, we had found kasambahays to take care of our house and our son while we were away at the office. I was secretly looking forward to date nights and more peaceful trips to the mall. But that feeling of giddy anticipation was quickly replaced by fear the moment the two girls set foot inside our home. Suddenly, all my biggest, bleakest worries surfaced. All those horrible news about children, as young as 1 year old (which happens to be my son’s age) being abused by maids blared in my head. An image of my son languishing in front of the T.V. all day or falling down the stairs flashed before my eyes. Dude, I was so distraught, I forgot to bring with me my newly purchased Owl Instant Coffee which I had been looking forward to enjoying today and had been, ironically, making mental notes not to forget to bring to the office (total bummer).Basically all the worst case scenarios became clear as day when I realized there really is no turning back. The kasambahays are here and I am going to have to completely entrust my beloved baby to these people who look innocent enough with their wispy frame and shy demeanor but could be actual psychopaths capable of unspeakable acts….

Whoa.whoa..whoa. Allow me to calm myself down for a second before I continue….

Okay. I’m good. Where were we?..Oh yeah, that part about my kasambahays being psychopaths capable of unspeakable acts of atrocity. Great.

Now, I am fairly certain I am not the only mother who feels the same way. After all, nobody ever thinks the worst things can happen to them until..well, they do and all that could be done is to suffer the damage wreaked. And it is also not wrong to distrust strangers, especially when the people we love are involved. But what truly terrorizes me is the aftermath of whatever treachery or honest mistake my kasambahays might make. I watch my son every day and my heart flutters when he runs around exploring his surroundings with the fascination of someone experiencing everything for the first time. His innocence is the light that brightens our lives and the thought of it being snuffed out scares me more than anything. I can handle getting hurt, I mean, I’ve been through some dismal s**t in my life but the one ordeal I may not be strong enough to handle is my son’s innocence stripped off prematurely and harshly by abuse or neglect. I can take all the crap life pelts me with but if my son had to take it, I just wouldn’t know what to do.

When I started tearing up in the car, my husband offered his sympathies despite his obvious discomfort and confusion (for some reason, a woman crying always renders men helpless). Just like any man would, he tried to refute my fears through cold, hard logic. I love him, and he’s 90% right, but at that moment I wanted to punch him in the nuts. I already know I sound ridiculous and the last thing I need is to be reminded of that. It’s like being told I have a pimple on my nose. It’s on my fu***ng nose and it’s the first thing I  see every time I look in the mirror so yeah, thanks for the heads up, genius.

But I digress….

My husband wanted me to feel better and I appreciate that but I may need some time. I wish I had the choice to stay home with my baby. I wish I had superpowers so I can be at 10 places all at once. I wish I can always watch and protect my child so he wouldn’t know pain and confusion and fear…yet. But none of those things are even remote possibilities for me. So I literally have no choice but to let go. Lately, I have been praying to God to grant me kind kasambahays who will love my boy as much as I love him because I understand that this is all I could do. Every morning before we leave the house, and as we drive to work, all I could do would be to whisper a prayer to God to please cloak my son with his protective embrace so no harm shall befall him. Every afternoon when we clock out and drive home,all I have is a prayer that my son will be the same effervescent toddler that he was yesterday. I pray that whatever happens, my son will be safe and his light will continue to shine. I pray because, really, that’s all you could do in situations like this. And maybe God shakes His head in disbelief  because for all His wisdom and omnipotence, He cannot believe the ridiculousness my brain farts out. But He understands. He understands that He cannot give me a great, wonderful, precious blessing and expect me to just enjoy it. And as warped as it sounds, I need to worry about all the potential disasters that could go down  until my brain explodes because, you know, LOVE.

If you are waiting for an insight then I have to tell you, I have none. I’m as scared as I was when I started writing this post. But I suppose, THAT could be the insight. That fear is part and parcel of parenthood, if not life itself. At times, it is our impetus, that nudge we need to step up and do something for the preservation of all that we love and cherish in this life. And yeah, I could do without fear but maybe if I were bereft of fear, I wouldn’t feel the love I have for my son as intensely as I do. I would not feel so strongly about protecting all the things that matter to me if I weren’t afraid of losing them. And in effect, I would not value them as much if not for the fear of their absence. So yeah, fear, in its own weird way, is good for us. I’m sure my fear is only going to make me more vigilant and courageous in the face of whatever scary, nerve-wracking event transpires. And the best way to handle my fear (so that it doesn’t screw me up completely) is to move on from being a cowering fool to a no-nonsense mother who will not, I repeat, will not take your shit lying down.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to look up toddler self-defense lessons online…

Regards,

Scared Shitless Mom