Ode to the Ayi

I'm always hesitant to write about having a helper who comes to our home daily to help with everything from child care to laundry and the sundry of chores in between.

If you have not lived abroad ... aka in a country where you don't speak the language and the forecast sometimes reads 'wide spread dust' you might think its an absolute luxury to have 30 hours a week of help.

Conversely, people who have lived in Asia for long periods of time sometimes become jaded. I've read horrible blogs about "lazy house help" and their "stupid" ways...

So... since people from home marvel and people here have grown apathetic, "The AYI" remains a difficult subject to address.

In July we found ourselves in a precarious predicament. Our ayi of 3 1/2 years was ready to move on. For whatever reason, she was ready to take a break, and unfortunately for me that break was scheduled right as my in-laws were to arrive. 3 1/2 years is a long time. She knew our kids well. She knew intimate details of our lives, many of which, thankfully were left unaddressed due to a wonderful combination of a large language barrier and her blessed gift of discretion. We had shared recipes, parenting tips and exchanged Christmas gifts.

3 1/2 years is longer than some marriages last, and yet there we were on the sunset of our relationship and found I felt awkward and yet free. We ended on an odd note of, "its not you its me," and while I don't think she was seeing someone behind my back (she claimed to have no work lined up, and even asked, with a glimmer of hope, if I could help her find some in the future) it was a weird ending to a relationship that had in its higher moments had bolstered our opinion about living in China.

We now have a new ayi who wants us to literally call her Ayi. She entered our lives seamlessly and despite bad timing --for two days whilst MIL and FIL where here I had two full time helpers!-- they overlapped so that the exiting one could show the new one the ropes. Only... she knew the ropes, and the tricks, and politely told me not to make my bed because she just had to remake it anyway. She jotted on a piece of scratch paper the kind of toilet cleaner she required. It's cheaper, she said, but better (fearful that all foreigners believed that expensive = best.)

Now we find ourselves climbing into bed at night onto sheets you could bounce a 5 mao coin on, and we rest our head on ironed pillowcases. She's not better than the old ayi, just different. And while I had feared the worst... months of "training" a new helper, she jumped right in and it now seems like she's been here forever. She brings the girlies ice cream bars or other small treats, insists on eating food from home. She offers her opinion, chats and tells about her family, and somehow has blended right in as a part of our own.