Apparently, I'm a "Nice Lady"

Dizzy has been out of town on business since Wednesday, so I've been in the charge of Mr. David Milne.

Our days start at an early 6am and revolve around breakfast and dinner, homework and driving to and from school. It's the school part that is stressful; if I am not at the school by 5:30 to fetch David, he is left on side of the road outside the school. This is a far greater incentive to fetch your child on time in South Africa than the threat of extra fees.

As such, I leave work particularly early to make sure I don't get caught in the traffic and miss the 5:30 deadline.

Tonight, I'm fetching him and his friend Michael who is staying the night. We're going to make pizzas from scratch, putting on our own toppings. This seems rather novel to the two of them.

With this culture of maids, gardeners and cooks (in the Northern suburbs), the children are quite different here than those I knew in Canada, so many of my experiences with David seem novel to the kid. The Northern suburbs has created generations of children who don't have to help around the house. The constant fight to clean one's room just doesn't happen here; that is what the maid is for. Even simple things like putting the oatmeal dish into the sink is a novelty for David who could always just leave it on the table (before Jana took over), b/c the maid would take care of it. When I asked him to feed his cats while I packed his lunch today, he didn't know where the cat food was.

It's a different balance for these kids. They don't have any responsibilities around the house and they can't have any freedom outside of the house: they can't walk to school or the store, they can't play with their friends in the neighbourhood, coming home only when the street lights come on. They are more sheltered because they have to be. As such, they seem to have little perspective on the world around them. When David complained to me about not having as many Play Station games as the other kids, I couldn't help but point out that most kids in this country don't even have a TV, let alone a play station and games. I don't think anyone has ever made this sort of statement to David, and I was worried about how he would process the comment.

He told me later that I was a "nice lady", and that it was nice to talk to me. Maybe he appreciates the different perspective. When he discovered I worked for NMCF, he was rather impressed. "This is why you know about kids, right?" he asked me. He asked if I was "like a teacher". I told him that I worked with volunteers who cared for children who didn't have a mommy and a daddy. I explained that I made sure that even orphaned children had someone who made sure their homework was done, their teeth were cleaned and that they had food in their tummies and clothes to wear to school.

I wonder what David will remember about this trip. His memories of me from the previous two are few (he was two the first time and only 'remembers' what he's seen in photos, and the last time he was five, and remembers swimming with me). I wonder if he will remember me as that mean old lady who made him feed the cats or as that strange Canadian lady who made him oatmeal in the mornings.

In some ways, Aunt Lynda's comment is correct -- the longer I stay here, the more difficult it is for me to go home. But at the end of the day, I know that I want to raise my children in a Canadian environment where they can have the personal freedoms and clean-your-room fights I had growing up. I want them to play in the snow in the winter and in the sprinkler in the summer. I want their curfew to be the first street light.