Time to Climb Back Up

I have a confession to make: I am not fit for the diplomatic lifestyle.  I don't drink tea.  I haven't had a pedicure since the Arab Spring.  I drive my own car.  And I can't stand having someone in my house all day cleaning up after me.

I have had my housekeeper come three times a day since I hired her in November.  The previous housekeeper had been coming two full days and two morning, so when I hired my current housekeeper I consolidated it into three days so that she could work for someone else the other two days.

At first it worked out okay; I had three mornings where I could have school without Edwin and Joseph interrupting.  They could take a walk and get some time outside while Kathleen and I talked about Alexander the Great.  I didn't have to fight off Edwin while struggling through a reading lesson with Sophia.  

Then winter hit and walks weren't so feasible.  So instead Edwin came down and kept us company, mostly playing nicely.  When the weather was nice, Edwin preferred to stay and join everyone else in school.  So then Joseph just kept my housekeeper company while she cleaned.  I realized after a few months that I was paying her to do twenty hours of work and she was hardly ever working more than sixteen (since I couldn't think of anything else to do, I let her go when her work was done each day).

And she was driving me crazy.  It wasn't her, it was just having someone, anyone else in the house with me.  My house is my sanctuary.  It's my own bubble that is not Baku, a place where the alien culture, foreign language, and curious looks are left at the doorstep.  

I know people who embrace living in a foreign culture and love nothing more than to go and explore the special nuances of another way of living, grow to love the people of their temporary home, and feel enriched by their experiences.  

I don't.

I once got a very nasty comment (that I deleted) on this blog that accused me (among other things) of not having cultural experiences and being a sad bitter person because of that.  

Everybody deals with life differently, and I deal with my life - four small children home every day all day - by having a sanctuary that I control.  As my children get older, that will probably change, but for now, I like it that way and no nasty comments will induce me to be a better person.

And having someone violate my sanctuary three times a week - putting my possessions up in strange places, folding my laundry wrong, giving my children candy to stop them crying, and most of all thinking their foreign-culture thoughts about me - was just too much.  As I said, everyone deals differently, and I have have come to the firm conclusion Brandon can never be Mr. Big Important in the embassy because I would have a mental breakdown after a week of having full time staff (not just one! several!) around.

So when my housekeeper announced that she had found another position for three days and could I just have her two days I could have cried for joy.  And then I thought that there must be something wrong with me.

So there you have it.  I'll never make a true diplomat.  But I hope we can still be friends.