Diary of a manic mummy

I can’t wait for the weekend to be over. Not because I am jaded and fed up of socialising; nor is it because I am bored of making forced, vapid conversation with blonde wannabes and show-offs (enough of those New York-London-Paris conversations people). All this is very amusing and people-watching is a very amusing part of socialising; but the truth is you’re never going to find anything amusing when you have spent the whole day watching Dora The Explorer, sipping tea from pink plastic cups and cleaning up after short and extremely messy craft sessions that involve a lot of glitter and glue.

Never thought I would say this but I can’t wait for Monday – and it’s not because I love my job. It’s because the Nanny will finally be back from her month long vacation and then I can have one – a vacation that is. Well, I’m not really going on vacation, but I’ve spend the last one month in Baby Boot Camp complete with baby DVDs, races to the potty, and hours on end at various play areas. After that even the office will feel like a vacation.

It’s not like I have never taken care of my baby alone but one tends to get used to luxury and ease, and so every time the Nanny goes on chutti I am reminded of two things: At the moment, and for the foreseeable future, Nanny is the single most important person in my life – without her I don’t have a life. (Note to self: must remember to get her a welcome-back, ‘bribe’ gift to keep her sweet); and those horror stories all the aunties tell all moms-to-be about life changing after motherhood are actually true.

For expectant mothers it’s never too early to recruit a nanny because as I have learnt through personal experience the ‘reliable nanny’, is one of the rarest life forms on earth. You might find an efficient maasi; you’ll find a decent cook, and house boys are dime a dozen, but the reliable nanny is very, very rare. But recruitment is only the first step.

Child-rearing is very similar to a computer game: you have to overcome the challenges, collect bonus points, and bear the nerve wracking sound effects to get to the next level. And then you have to do it all over again except that every subsequent level presents even bigger challenges. With regard to the nanny aspect of child rearing this involves everything from finding a nanny to training her, and then – the biggest challenge of all, worse than potty training even – is trying to retain her.

My own Nanny experience has been similar; the first challenge was convincing her to work for me. I don’t remember another occasion when I had to negotiate, bargain, and ultimately beg anyone let alone hired help. Then there were the demands that had to be met and perks thrown in to sweeten the deal – enough to lure an investment banker.

If there’s one thing my husband and I wholeheartedly and unarguably agree upon it’s that we have to – absolutely have to do everything within our power and budget to appease the Nanny (that goddess who holds the reins of our social life and sanity). This includes resigning ourselves to the fact that the baby may never lose that distinctly regional accent.

Though I do pray she is at some point in life able to pronounce the word ‘seven’ instead of saying ‘savin’ and apple instead of ‘aypil’. On the other hand the baby does have a remarkable command over Punjabi, and I hear schools look favourably upon multilingual candidates.

I also regularly pray for the health, happiness and longevity not only of Nanny’s, but of all her family, friends and neighbours too. Any one of them falling ill, being indisposed or God forbid dying will cause Nanny to rush back to her village in a flurry without a second thought to my social calendar. It’s best to include all her nearest and dearest, in fact her whole village in my prayers. Because a little prayer goes a long way, and the little gifts now and then don’t hurt either.