I no longer am in employ of a maid.

Shocking, I know.

The whole process that led us up to this point has been emotionally traumatic, if I’m going to be honest.  I can see that, for myself, there is a lot of responsibility on my end, especially in how things ended.  I regret that we ended on bad terms; I should have released her from her contract a year ago when I started feeling unhappy with the service I was paying for rather than letting resentment build.  I sense that resentment built on her side as well, which I also do take a measure of responsibility.  When she started working for us four years ago, I had such a case of guilt complex that I was wary of telling her how to do things, even when I saw with my own eyes that she was doing things contrary to the way that I prefer.  I finally got the guts to say something when I saw her wash out the garbage can with the wash cloth in the kitchen and then put it back into the dishwater to use to wash our dishes.  I should have taken a cue then that maybe she hasn’t ever learned what I would consider proper cleaning practices, but I didn’t because I had essentially mentally handed everything related to cleaning over to her, considered it her domain and didn’t want to intrude.  If there was anything not done to my liking or out of place, I would redo the job or reorganize to our preferences after she had left for the day rather than teach her the standard that I was expecting.  Flash forward to these past number of months since I’ve taken on the responsibility of the kids’ education.  All of a sudden, I didn’t have the time to go behind her and fix what I didn’t like, and so I started saying something to her about it.  There was the plastics cupboard.  Then there were the spatulas.  Then there was the pans.  Then there was the huge pile of dust underneath the fridge… and helping her to understand the meaning of “dust uncommon areas”… and the…. and the…   The list just seemed to get longer and longer.  One day, feeling the pressure of keeping up the education standard as well as the Arabic tutor arriving unannounced (have you ever caught on  that I don’t change gears on the fly with much grace nor ease?) and the street sweeper dude asking for financial help, I reached my patience limit when I found a necessary kitchen gadget that has ALWAYS been in the drawer beside the stove misplaced in a lower cupboard clear across the kitchen.  It was the only time in four years that I have ever raised my voice to Blessing.  I wouldn’t say that I yelled, and I certainly didn’t scream, but I did speak to her very sternly and rather curtly.  First time.  In four years.  That was two weeks ago, and I think from that moment she was done.  She checked out and simply ceased to care.  I should have just let her go that day.  But I didn’t.  I hoped that we could move past things and move to better footing.  It was not to be.

Last week, something else happened that I don’t feel like going into all the sordid details about here because Blessing isn’t in this forum to defend herself nor bring her perspective. Obviously, I think I am completely in the right, but logically, I have some responsibility in the situation because I’m a part of it.  Long story short, Blessing was fired/quit on her accord.

And so, after 4 years of hiatus, I have once again resumed the care of my own home.  And do you know what?  It feels great!  I know it’s a honeymoon period, but I had forgotten what it’s like to sit in a room that I have cleaned/organized to my liking and the feeling of satisfying accomplishment that goes along with it.

An added bonus, our local grocery store began carrying the cutest of cute cleaning supplies that I happened to bump into the day that Blessing and I parted ways.  Divine provision to get me inspired to get back to cleaning?  I can’t say for sure, but I’d like to think so!

Is this just not the cutest little broom and dust pan that you ever did lay your eyes on?

Lola was especially worried about life without a maid.  ”But what are we going to do, Mom??” she cried with wide eyes.  Initially I was confused by her palpable terror then I realized that Lola has no living memory of not having house help.  Charlie remembers that life was possible without a maid, but Lola was paralyzed with fear.  How will we LIVE??

As I busied myself with the daily chores, Lola showed up at my side and chimed, “You are really good at cleaning, Mom!”  Her surprise was laughable, but understandable.  A consequence of handing over cleaning responsibilities to another and not modelling that routine for my daughter is that Lola had never witnessed my cleaning talents apart from picking up her toys from the floor.  We had a lesson in washing dishes, and I showed her how to vacuum.  For now the honeymoon includes Charlie and Lola taking charge of their rooms, and Charlie asking me, “When do I get to vacuum again?”

I don’t expect this to last forever, and when it does get to be too much, I know that I have the option to find another helper.  If it does come to that, I’ll definitely do things differently.  Training will begin day one.  But for now, things are just as I want them because I’ve done it myself.

Question: if you have house help, how insistent are you that things are done the way you want them done and to your standards?