Rosalba

Probably you figured out that this is not a real tiger.

We have talked about our trips to the zoo in the past, but this is not so much about the zoo as it is the people with us at the zoo. The photo above is missing Rosalba, who is the link between us, but don't worry, there is a picture of her below.

About a year and a half ago we entered into what is possibly a most typical missionary dilemmas - do you hire someone to help you around the house? We do not have a big apartment, and for a year and a half we managed just fine. Okay, let's be honest - Richard managed just fine as he cleaned and I read him books (best.arrangement.ever). After Nora was born, however, we were feeling a little overwhelmed. We weren't sure what we were doing (and we had not yet acclimated to that perpetual reality), we were dead-dog tired, and we weren't feeling up to the challenge of the daily January dirt dusting that comes with the blessed breezes of the North Coast. In talking through things with someone from the church, she suggested Rosalba just come by and give us a hand one day.

I have never seen a person clean so thoroughly as Rosalba did that day. I have heard tell of people moving furniture to clean before, but I have not really had them take every item out of my kitchen cabinets, wipe down each item along with all the shelves, and replace everything (resulting in fun hide and seek games once she left, but whatever). Perhaps even this seems normal to you, but may I just show you one picture which further underscores my point? That cow (which is our water filter) had spots before Rosalba came. I am not kidding you. Richard painted spots on that cow with what we considered to be permanent marker. That was evidently inaccurate. When she left that day (approximately 10 hours later...) we marveled at how clean our home could be. We relaxed. We walked around barefoot. We went to bed early. We were hooked.

Rosalba

Rosalba usually comes once every 2-3 weeks (or just before our parents come to visit) to get the deep down clean that our (Richard's) sweep and mop doesn't quite cover. Over time we have gotten to be friends. I am finally not just "Señora" with a name too hard to remember. I have heard about her life and she has lived some of mine as she has watched Peanut grow up from 4 months on. I think the first real break was when we invited Rosalba and her two youngest daughters to the Nutter's birthday, getting that same invitation in return to her grandson's first birthday this past February. Every time she comes I make us all breakfast and for lunch she either tries out "an adventure" (read: what we usually eat at home), or I go buy something for us at the corner store that is more immediately recognizable.  Each of her kids has come to our house with her and played with Peanut, to her everlasting delight. We are grateful for their presence in our life.

And yet...because isn't there always an "and yet" to a dilemma?

And yet, Rosalba works for us. Can't get around that. She does not come clean out of the goodness of her heart (why would you do that?), and, apart from the meals we fix, we do not help her out while she is sweeping, wiping, mopping, etc. We have the luxury of paying her to come do what she also has to do at her own house because...well, it is her house. We live fairly simply, yet with a "home computer" and a "work/travel computer" while her kids (she notes) don't even know how to turn one on. We pay her better than she expects to be paid, but again, we can. We took she and her family out to the zoo just to have fun, because we can. 

I am not putting the dilemma forward very clearly I don't think, but it revolves around whether, if you can, you choose to ask someone else to come in and do work that you could do, or not. If not, we would have never met Rosalba or her wonderful kids. Peanut would have a smaller world, whether she knew it or not. And sure, Rosalba and her family would not have the still meager income we provide her twice a month. But because we do are in each other's lives doesn't mean we can pretend that making breakfast or a birthday invitation puts us on equal footing in the world or that other choices we make (or don't) serve to maintain or even widen the gap between us. 

And yet...we will still treasure our trip to the zoo

We are ostriches, can't you tell?

Cooking with Fanny

I think Peanut would watch Cooking with Fanny all day long if it were a television show. Of course, she might be banging on the screen and screaming, "Fanny! Fanny!" the whole time as she tried to jump through the screen to get to the hostess, but some days I might be able to live with that if it let me get the dishes done. I digress...

Peanut loves to help cook, and she loves Fanny, so this is a total win-win. I get nervous only occasionally as Fanny has the confidence to use remarkably large knives around my daughter, but by and large the language acquisition skills and the sheer thrill of sorting vegetables overrides my anxiety. 

What's that? An onion, or part of my finger! (Just kidding people)

Taste testing is a bonus.

 

Really, could you get a happier face? 

 

And, just in case you thought I was exaggerating about the knife...

  Yup sister, I thought the same thing.

Helping

Peanut is a helper.

Besides being in the monkey-see, monkey-do stage (which has led us to buy her a pint-sized broom, dustpan, and mop and simultaneously curbed our tendency to dump swept up ants out the window...), Peanut really likes doing things we ask of her. We are aaaalllll about taking advantage of this moment as my mother can (and will) attest to its impermanence. The challenge right now is not so much enlisting Peanut's help, as directing it; finding particular ways in which Peanut can be the helper that she is without having to pass her off to Papi while I gather all the hair I have recently pulled out of my own head. 

For what it's worth, here are some of my mental notes:

1. Toddlers (or at least Peanut) like to sweep.

• Toddlers do not actually see the dirt that needs to be swept unless it has been gathered up in a nice pile.
• When dirt is gathered up in a nice pile, it looks like there is a lot of it (and in all fairness there may be...).
• When you move a little broom back and forth through the nice pile, the dirt scatters everywhere.
• When the dirt scatters everywhere, there doesn't look like near so much of it anymore - SCORE!
• Toddler Lesson: Get rid of the big pile to be a helper.
• Mami Lesson: Make a little big pile at one end of the room and then make your big pile at the other. Sweep fast.

2. Toddlers (or at least Peanut) like to help in the kitchen.

• Toddlers have absolutely no concept of what is going on with the whole dish washing thing.
• Toddlers do reallllly like water.
• Given how much time is spent doing it, washing dishes must be the most important job in the house and therefore any toddler must be a part of the action. If this involves forcing one's body between Mami's legs and the sink and grunting/bawling...well, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
• Most of the time (at least with Peanut) the dishes inside the sink are considered mine, while the dishes outside the sink are considered hers.
• After touching a given dish/cup/fork 4.5 times, it must go into the sink - even if Mami has already washed it...twice.
• And, just so we are all clear, holding a spatula is better than not holding a spatula.

3. Toddlers (or at least Peanut) like to put things away. Sort of.

• Okay, so we all know they like dumping things out more, but she does like to do some restoring.
• Asking Peanut to take shoes to a bedroom will buy you 43 seconds of sweeping in the living room unaided.
• Asking Peanut to take shoes to your bedroom is pointless. The will all wind up in her bedroom anyway.
• The first set of shoes generally makes it to the bedroom, and even into the closet.
• The second set of shoes may make it into the bedroom.
• The third set of shoes, if they even get noticed, and if they possibly make it back to the bedroom, will not likely be found for a day or two.
• Downside: Putting shoes away often means bringing shorts or a t-shirt back out. 
• Bright side: you figure the shoes made it to the room.