While not necessarily fair, in the places we live and work, including here in Timor, we are able to afford full-time help with just about everything in the home. Before you think spoiled brat, consider that not everything here is that easy - for instance, you will likely have to visit at least 2-3 supermarkets for the most basic ingredients for a half-decent pantry where a 1kg tub of yogurt will cost you anywhere from $9-$15, and cereal run about $8, on top of having to stop at two local bazaars, one for fresh vegetables and one for fruit (where, on the plus side I am happy to report that avocados run about 5 for $1). Add to that the general lack of fresh dairy and bread that has not been frozen, thawed and re-frozen a few times during the long journey, and remember that there is often a lack of crucial items like cat food (and ice cream) for months. Much of this we can mitigate, as our general frontier-esque production of both home-made yogurt, ice cream and bread can attest to - but I still don't have a cow to milk for the cream for said ice cream.
Alright, back to the point about household help. So yes, we have a cleaner (she looks to be about 80 and stooped over, yet with the life expectancy in Timor is likely much closer to about 50) who comes in somewhere between 10 and 10:30am, washes the dishes while we have power, then disappears for about two hours for lunch, returns in the afternoon when there is no power to not iron my work clothes (we have tried, and tried to get her to iron when the power is on, and wash dishes when it is off - no luck). In addition, we employ her equally geriatric-appearing husband as our 'guard'. Not much 'guarding' going on here, but he does open the gate for us with a huge smile and I think he confuses Chris with Arnold Schwarzenegger or someone equally idolized, for not even I greet him quite as enthusiastically when he returns home (my name on the other hand, he can never quite remember).
So it was inevitable that we would employ a nanny to care for Luka while I am at work and Chris runs the household (remember the 3+ stops it requires for basic grocery shopping, not counting the fact that the Timorese drive 15kmph when they're speeding, and that the roads generally resemble what most 4x4 enthusiasts refer to as a 'jeep track'), all a way of saying that while he is an excellent cook and capable house manager, there is no way to do it alone. Enter the nanny. There are generally two options in Timor (that is after you tried to convince your mom to stay on indefinitely and she politely declined), a local nanny, or a Filipina nanny. They both have their upsides and benefits, though for a variety of reasons (literacy, English) we are probably more likely to go with a Filipina for ease of communication, mostly given that we have had our fair share of challenges early in the young Master's life.
And so we embarked on the standard round-robin asking around if anyone knew of a nanny that would be available, a few recommendations from friends' nannies came in, I did the interviews (some in my car in front of the ANZ bank downtown during lunch hour for lack of other time/place), and quickly eliminated the cleaners posing as nannies, and others asking ridiculous salaries. We ended up interviewing one particular woman twice. My biggest issue with her had been that it was hard to check her references - apart from a short stint as the babysitter to the current New Zealand Ambassador to Timor-Leste's nine-year old, her previous job was as the caretaker to the mother of the Queen of Brunei - I mean, what is protocol, to Skype a Queen?
Long story short, we gave her a test run for a week - my mother was here to supervise and train her, deciding early on in the week that the objective grandma approach to training is much better than the overly sensitive/nervous demeanor of the mother - and promptly sent me back to work full-time despite the fact that I had half-time work approved. Turns out it was good as there was certainly enough fires at work to keep me busy. All seemed to go fantastic. Lucy loved Luka, Luka love Lucy - he was napping, eating and smiling all with equal enthusiasm. On Thursday, before the last day of Lucy's trial, Chris and I discussed the offer we would make - which was on the high side from what we had been told others pay, we decided to include overtime pay, some paid time off, and even try and get her accident and disability insurance. As we sat down on Friday morning to discuss the offer with her, I was ready to head off to work, and thought it would be a great end to a week. That's when her demeanor changed - she suddenly seemed very uncomfortable and I knew something was up. When we told her Luka wanted her to take care of him, if she still wanted the job, she shifted in her seat and started with "actually ma'am...." and I knew - back to square one.
While I am happy and do not for a minute deprive her of the opportunity to get involved with a business that could potentially be more profitable for her, it is not easy welcoming someone into your house and entrusting them with your most precious possession, so it is a huge relief when it goes right - and I don't even want to think what happens if it does not - but be that as it may - without being overly dramatic - it was a bit of a blow.
So, we are back to emailing friends of friends, and calling nanny's nanny friends to see if somewhere there is another person available to interview that we have not already heard of, been advised against, or informed that she already has a wonderful nanny job (and she is the best!) So as my mom prepares to return to South Africa next weekend, Chris is readying himself to be Mr. Mom for the time being. We know our perfect fit for Luka is out there somewhere, by the way, if you are reading this, it would be really convenient if you could give us a ring!!
One of the ways in which we have tried to maintain a little bit of balance is by trying (as best we can) to incorporate Luka into our activities. So I have been doing 'baby yoga' on Saturdays with him, and we recently took him up coast with us (and Ouma the magical baby sitter) so that we could go diving, and just last week we assembled our new super-duper baby stroller cum bike trailer cum baby ski (that's right!) the Chariot Cougar I (which basically means that my 7-month old now has a more expensive bicycle than I do, but then again, he also has more clothes than me, so par for the course I suppose). 
