On being a yaya-less existence

Ideally, I would never let any other caregiver take in charge of my son’s welfare and needs. But being with a demanding day job to sustain our family’s needs, my husband and I had to be away for work for most of the better part of the day. Thus, my son stays home with a nanny. On lucky days, my mother visits our place to help out look after my little Sam who now, at sixteen months, thinks that the sofa is excitingly equivalent to a diving board.

Well, the yaya left us after she finished school.  Like all else, working couples who are left (by their yayas) high and dry in crunch times can only swear under their breath. So swear we did.

Without a nanny, Alex and I had to restructure our routine in the house – from tip to toe. Sam had to be dropped by at my parents’ house or at Alex’s sister’s place; if only either or both of these places can accommodate a hyper active toddler without dismantling their personal errands and hectic schedules. We are in a sense, homeless; for we sleep in houses whose owners would be available for our son the next day. Since our closest relatives live far in between, sleeping over at their places the night before we leave Sam with them would be an inevitable option.

Sometimes, if we are lucky we could stay at my parents’ house for days (my mother would just then pretend was readily available and cancel her other activities). However, we would be lucky if our son is still awake when we arrive late at night or that if he is already awake when we leave. In days like these, my only interaction with my son is when he wakes up crying at night and I kiss him back to sleep.

On weekends, instead of catching up on sleep or seriously thinking about finishing my Master’s Degree, I would be running after Sam in the house or in the street outside. Streets can be very alluring to little children, and yes, I sometimes allow him to play with other children in the street; all equipped with my hawk-like over-seeing prowess and paranoia. All these would transpire while Alex does the laundry, mops the floor and for some divine intervention, cooks our meals without complaints.

There are times too that I had to carry Sam in all of my weekend errands. Both of us would not have a lot of options but to stick with each other. He could either harass me of his preference for climbing stairs without support, running at an impossible speed for me to cope with, asking to breast feed in a jeepney and leaving my breast exposed to 20 other passengers because he suddenly got busy cheering at trucks, motorcycles and other stuff that goes “vroom! vroom!”.

Or, I bombard him with a series of “no-nos” for climbing stairs, refusing to walk, running too fast, wanting to eat isaw, candy or Coke such that I would easily have a toddler in his best performing tantrums.

  

Here are photos of those moments when I tag him all along...

In this photo, I brought him to the Feast of the Holy Guardian Angles.
It is an annual school activity of the Xavier University Grade School .

On that same day, I brought him to the wedding of my co-teacher.
We were wearing our day-job get up here we just sneaked out from  the  Feast  to join this  joyful event.

He was asking me if he could have this balloon.

Another day/activity at my workplace.