Remember how I blogged about our super fantastic, amazing, awesome nanny in this post here – Super Nanny (number 4….) – well, it’s more than a year later, and I’m glad to say that we’re still very happy with her 🙂  Jeanette has become a part our family and Ethan simply adores her.  I cannot understand how she manages to look after Ethan (who only has one nap a day) and still ensure that our house is always spic-and-span.  Not to mention the way she makes time to do that little something extra every now and again over and above the daily cleaning of the house most noticeably (well, to me at least!) is how my cupboard gets repacked every few weeks without me even having to ask.  My shoes, which have very limited space (all 30 odd pairs of them) tend to look like a pile of shoes at a jumble sale the way I throw them around in search for that pair that I have to wear today and, as I’m sure my mother can attest to, I am not the best at folding my clothes either (I’ll never forget that time that my mother hauled everything out of my bedroom cupboard and insisted that I pack everything back neatly – I, of course ignored her and just trampled over everything like it wasn’t there because I just.can’t.pack and have no inclination to) yet my clothes are constantly packed like a pile of shirts at a department store.  She really is a Godsend!

As our whole family love Jeanette, like any person would do (or so I like to think), we do try and accommodate her as best as possible and we do go out of our way to make her happy.  In fact, I sometimes feel like we tiptoe around her and the roles do sometimes tend to feel a bit switched in our house because let’s face it, she is looking after our pride and joy and I wouldn’t want her to do anything to Ethan out of spite for us!  As this is the first full time nanny that we’ve had, I think that both the hubster and I are still trying to figure out how to be “the boss”.  Easier for the hubster than it is for me unfortunately, as I have become the “voice of authority” in this area (and probably this area only so I’ve taken it with two hands running!!).  Anyway, this has become a constant issue in my life – I cannot pluck up the courage to tell her, but rather tend to ask her.  As an example, part of her contract is that she works one weekend a month – this is either a Friday or Saturday for us depending on what we’re doing that weekend.  We generally try do something on a Friday so that she can still go home on a Saturday morning – you see how accommodating we are??!!!! – I know other people’s nannies/domestics who have to stay all weekend for their one-weekend-a-month weekend!  When we gave her an increase this year, I asked her whether she could work on the odd evening when we needed her (she “lives in”) – yes, I asked her, I didn’t tell her.  I don’t know what it is, but I can’t seem to pluck up the courage to be the boss!  I feel bad every time she has to stay late even if it is on the odd occasion, I try and come back early from work on Fridays so that she can also leave early and I get nervous to ask her to work extra days – is this normal???  I really think that the line between being the boss and dictating things and taking advantage of your nanny/domestic is such a fine one and I don’t want to cross it and have an unhappy nanny. 

What do you think – am I being silly or is this normal – do you also struggle with this?

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One response »

  1. Robyn says:

    Hahaha, I don’t think it’s normal BUT it’s not uncommon! Depending on the issue at hand, I too feel nervous asking Zoleka about certain things. However, I quickly remind myself that at the end of the day she is being paid for a service which was agreed upon and just like my boss sometimes asks me for something over and above what my requirement is, so the time will arise when you may have to ask her to stretch herself. I always make up for it if I ask her to do something out of the ordinary – AND I don’t feel bad because I KNOW she is WELL taken care of by us. Anything within her job requirement, I most definitely do not feel bad about.

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