Maid in China

I passed through most of my teenage years without succumbing to the phrase "everybody's doin' it", but here, at the ripe old age of 29, I've gladly surrendered peer pressure. It took 7 weeks to give-in, I am still embarrassed to admit it.

So let me first justify: in third world countries the rich and poor alike can have live-in maids. And though we Americans pay almost double for them, I don't know a single US family with out an all-in-one-clean-cook-laundry-iron-er. You can't afford not to get one, a once in a life time thing.

They LOVE working for the US families, because they get "family-like" treatment.

The interviewing process is as much a delicate dance in China as it is in the US. I say what I'm looking for, and the interviewee says she can do it all. Then you dig deeper to see what her real experience is. She responds by following your feet, assuming what you'd like to hear. Every family is different, and the dance can move from the Waltz to the Salsa all in 10 minutes.

I had danced with 12 different "Ayi" candidates, and thought we found our perfect match in "Little Yellow", as her name translates. Her cheerfulness matched her clean-sounding mandarin, Tim's largest qualification. Lil' Yellow was equally pleased, as our Chinese-speaking family didn't need her to speak English.

We only listed two of our favorite meals when she asked what they were; our mistake. While curry beef made a good dinner, it also was also served as a re-heat for breakfast the next day, which rolled into dinner later that next night. Which turned into the toilet's midnight snack...

I've heard the phrase of "praying to the porcelain god", let's just say I was upon it, and hacking to the heated tiles-- well into the late morning. Tim was off to work, tried to act like he didn't want to leave, academy award winning. I was yelling for sweet Little Yellow, the only one home besides Tanner. I was relieved her limited English would not allow her to rehearse this to any of my friends.

Disgusting. I felt like I was in labor, you have no shame. And don't care who sees whichever part of you. Poor little Yellow had unpacked her things two days ago, I'm sure debating how fast she could re-pack. She still came.

And I am not quite sure why she closed the frosted window above the toilet during the process. While this window does face neighbors-- there could be an element of entertainment hearing a white girl belt out Chinese phrases between hurls.

After running back and forth three times to get underwear, pants, and lastly baby wipes. Her voice cracked when handing me the wipes (translation) "you can do the rest?" I couldn't help but laugh out loud. Poor thing thought I would ask for the un-askable. She had no clue what this half-dressed American lady would ask of her. The immature jokester thought I could exchange her request for no more luggie-haucking during dinner. Now that's really disgusting.

Poor Yellow was exposed to way too much way too early. There is something to be said for someone who has seen, washed and folded your underwear and still has cause to come back. But after this week, we knew she was a keeper. Hang in there, Little Yellow, I promise "family-like" treatment at the Calton's has ups too.


PS. Been hospitalized for all that mess (re hydration IVs), but it was a good hit for the blog.