Moms, what time do your nannies wake up? Catherine says her nanny is not an early riser, waking up sometimes at 7am, sometimes 8am. She sometimes comes home from work to find the day’s dishes not done, and the house not cleaned. But Catherine knows where her priorities lie. Watch her tell her inspiring story below.
You may also like to see the video below:
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Email me on maryanne@mummytales.com
Hello friends, and welcome back to Mummy Tales. Today, I revisit the topic of house girls (sometimes called Domestic Managers, house helps, house maids or nannies). You can see my previous articles on this topic here.
So, I have a couple more of such articles lined up, where I’ll be featuring house girls who have come through for their employers. The Kenyan mums will be talking about their first-hand experiences with house girls who have been great assets in their homes. I welcome you to read these articles, hoping that you can be inspired and even pick something new from both the moms’ and house girls’ experiences. If you’d like to share your own story, you can write to me at maryanne@mummytales.com
I’ll start the series with the story of Tildah Kabura Kahuthu, a mother of a six-year-old daughter.
“When my baby was sick and we got admitted, I had a new house girl who had been with us for only three weeks. However, she was someone I was familiar with since she used to work around my neighborhood. Her name was Belinda.
At the hospital where my baby was admitted (I had to stay with her throughout her admission), Belinda would show up every day at 6am, and she would cry whenever she saw my baby on oxygen. She would go on to stay all day long with us, leaving at 6pm.
On the day my When baby was taken off oxygen, Belinda hugged me and cried. She loved my baby to bits.
When Belinda would come to the hospital, she would feed and bathe the baby while instructing me to rest and not worry as she would look after the baby. She understood how stressed I was and would take care of the baby as I rested. The doctors also took a liking to her and she was never chased away even after visiting hours had ended.
Belinda was God sent and loved my baby beyond. For the three weeks my baby was admitted in hospital, she never missed a single day visiting us at the hospital. And when she returned home, she never misbehaved even though she was alone in the house.
Belinda was trustworthy and I depended on her for almost everything. Whenever I would send her for shopping, she would actually shop better than me.
Whenever she had the opportunity, she would even buy for my baby fruits, toys and clothes -using her own money.
Belinda stayed with me for eight months –only leaving when she went to get married.
We lost touch after I relocated from Mombasa where we were staying at that time. But I have never forgotten Belinda. I pray for her every time because she saved me from depression at that time when my baby was sick in hospital. It was an extremely very difficult time for me. Belinda came through for me at a time when I really needed someone to be there for me. She was there for me at a very low point in my life emotionally and financially. She stood in the gap. God bless her.
Advice to other Moms
I would advise Kenyan moms to be patient with house girls as they too are human and are bound to make mistakes. Your priority should always be the baby. To me if she is a bit messy but is good with the baby, the mess is worth overlooking. Just help out with the mess. Above all, treat them well.”
And that’s Tildah’s story. Have you had a house girl who has been such a blessing in your home? Share your story with me on maryanne@mummytales.com
Mummy Tales is a platform dedicated to empowering its readers on different aspects of womanhood and motherhood. Read more motherhood experiences of Kenyan moms here. Connect with Mummy Tales on: FACEBOOK l YOU TUBE l INSTAGRAM l TWITTER
This is a *guest post.
“Not too long ago, I was doing my usual Sunday shopping at the Lavington Mall in Nairobi, buying various baking ingredients since Sundays are the days I love making special treats for my kids.
Now, in that kind of leafy suburb, we often tend to assume that everyone there is ‘OK’ and doing quite well. As in, if they can afford to live in that neighborhood, then life must be doing them all kinds of good. You can see it in the cars they drive, their hairstyles, their outfits, the lingering scents of their colognes and perfumes, and the chubby cheeks of their children.
So after I’d finished my shopping, loaded it into my car and was ready to drive off, I looked up and saw a girl aged about 14 years standing alone by one parking bays.
But that’s not what caught my eyes.
I noticed she was unsuccessfully trying to hide the tears that were streaming down her face. Fearing she could be in trouble, I decided to go and ask after her.
The moment I said to her: “my dear, what’s wrong?”, she started sobbing uncontrollably on my shoulder.
As she did so, she told me that while her dad was around, he would be leaving them shortly… He would be leaving – again – in just two hours’ time yet he’d only been around for a week. She wasn’t going to see him again for another year.
She explained that her dad works outside the country. Her father regularly reminds she and her siblings that it is his job that affords them the good lifestyle they enjoy, that’s why he has to be away often.
I comforted her, assuring her that it was okay to cry.
She went on to tell me that her mom also travels outside the country quite a lot and with no parent around, she and her siblings are regularly left under the care of one of the housekeepers.
She said that thankfully, the main housekeeper is a kind woman who takes good care of them. She has been working in their home for the last seven years.
But still, she’s not their parent.
“I can’t tell you the million times I’ve wished that we were poor because then, my parents would be home with us all the time. They wouldn’t be always outside the country working.”
I felt sad. Really really sad.
I nevertheless told her to make the best of the remaining hours she had with her dad, creating pleasant memories with him.
I then watched as she walked away towards her dad who had by then arrived, got into their very classy car and drove off…”-END
*If you have a guest post you’d like published, please send it to me at maryanne@mummytales.com
Mummy Tales is a platform dedicated to empowering its readers on different aspects of womanhood and motherhood. Read more motherhood experiences of Kenyan moms here. Connect with Mummy Tales on: FACEBOOK l YOU TUBE l INSTAGRAM l TWITTER
Image by Ulrike Mai from Pixabay
A new crèche / daycare has been opened at the Chuka open-air market in Tharaka Nithi County in Meru, Eastern Kenya. What a relief for both mothers and their babies! Find out more about this very welcome and great initiative in this news piece by Martin Munene of Citizen TV. I hope more Counties will be challenged to do the same.
The babies can breastfeed, play, sleep and have their diapers changed very comfortably and in a safe place without overly disrupting their working moms. Basic learning is also offered to the children. I believe the moms get even more productive in their work because of the relief this crèche / day care offers them. Is there a crèche at your workplace?
Mummy Tales is a platform dedicated to empowering its readers on different aspects of womanhood and motherhood. Read more motherhood experiences of Kenyan moms here. Connect with Mummy Tales on: FACEBOOK l YOU TUBE l INSTAGRAM l TWITTER
Has the hair on your head been falling off, leaving unexplainable patches on your scalp and you just can’t figure out what’s wrong? You’ve literally tried everything, but the hair just keeps shedding. Or you know of someone who is going through this.
Well, don’t worry because you’re not alone. This morning, I found this video courtesy of Daily Nation that will help explain what could possibly be going on with your hair, and I’m sharing it with you. I have enjoyed the vibrancy of the beautiful women who have shared their stories; they are very encouraging. Watch, learn, and share with a friend.
Mummy Tales is a platform dedicated to empowering its readers on different aspects of womanhood and motherhood. Read more motherhood experiences of Kenyan moms here. Connect with Mummy Tales on: FACEBOOK l YOU TUBE l INSTAGRAM l TWITTER
Hello friends and welcome back to Mummy Tales. Today, we have a guest post from one lady who recently encountered an episode with her neighbour’s child. Read on..
“There’s this incident that recently happened in my neighborhood that made me reflect a lot.
I had parked my car as usual at the communal parking lot, and as is the case in many Nairobi apartments, it is a common parking area that also doubles up as kids play area because in this Nairobi, our children are unfortunately growing up seeing grass only on TV.
It so happened that when I got to my car in the late afternoon ready to run an errand, I noticed that my car had been scribbled on. It was a lot of zig zag and some numbers. Definitely done by a sharp object, like the sharp edge of a small stone. I was very upset.
There were lots of children playing there too.
I walked over to them and asked who was responsible for the mess. About 12 boys aged between around 5 – 10 years came forward, all speaking at the same time, each trying to out-yell the other.
But in the midst of all the talk, I noticed something. There was one boy who was deathly silent. One of my eyes was fixated on him while the other was watching the other boys animatedly tell the story of what had happened. I distinctively picked out the name ‘Dylan’ in their rants.
Turns out that the deathly silent boy was Dylan. I asked him if he was the one who’d damaged my car, but he remained quiet. I could smell the fear in his breath, the panic in his eyes. He started shaking like a leaf in a storm.
I asked Dylan to take me to his house so that I could speak to his parent.
I waited by the doorstep as Dylan fetched his mother, the sweet aroma of cake filling my nostrils as I did so. Clearly she was baking something delicious.
Soon, she arrived with that look of ‘YES????’
I explained to her what had happened to my car, indicating it was likely her son was responsible, based on the explicit accounts of his playmates.
This was her response:
“LOOOOOL, noooooooo, it can’t be my Dylan because my son is a very responsible boy, he doesn’t do such things. Besides, I don’t understand how you can just listen to little boys say its him, and thereafter automatically conclude that he is the one responsible. Things don’t happen like that mami. Kids lie a lot. Those boys in fact are very ill-mannered, and I’m always telling Dylan to keep away from them. There’s no way he’s capable of such. I’m raising him better than that.”
All this time, Dylan was behind her skirt, looking at me. His eyes spoke to me.
The mother went on.
“I suggest you go to mama so-and-so’s house and ask there, because she has a brood of very naughty boys if I can be polite in saying so. They are the ones usually causing disruption in this neighborhood.”
I asked her to ask Dylan, who was right there behind her skirt about the incident. I knew if he talked, he would say the truth. But she stopped me right in my tracks.
“I speak on behalf of Dylan, and I know my son very well. So just go back and ask those boys again’.
And with that, she excused herself to return to the kitchen. As she went in, I noticed Dylan hesitate, looking at me, before being quickly being ushered into the house and the door shut. She never gave him the chance to talk.
Three days later, as I parked my car after a hard day’s work, I noticed a little boy following me towards my house. It was Dylan.
“I’m sorry please. It was me who wrote on your car.”
I asked him why he didn’t just own up earlier, but he said that his mom would have killed him.
Dylan told me he’s seven years old.
I asked him what he wanted now that he had told me the truth. He said he didn’t know.
I asked him if he wanted me to accompany him to his house and stand by him as he told his mother that he was responsible.
He said no, that his mother would kill him.
I assured him she wouldn’t kill him, though he would probably be reprimanded. He started crying, and I took about 15 minutes comforting him and explaining to him why it’s important to always tell the truth. Eventually, he agreed.
And that’s exactly what we did. When his mom listened to him, she turned to me and asked me:
“Oh really? So you two hooked up behind my back? Sawa. I’ll deal with Dylan. As for you, I’ll give you Sh2,000 to buy rubbing compound, that should more than sort out your issue.”
Rubbing compound. To sort out a heavily scratched car. Wau. Just wau.
While I’m not a parent yet, mama Dylan definitely taught me a couple of lessons about parenting. All I can do is pray for Dylan because…” -END
What are your thoughts about this story? Has your car ever been scratched by a child? What action did you take? Or, has your child ever scratched a neighbour’s car? Then what happened? You can share your story in the comments section below, or you can mail me on maryanne@mummytales.com
Mummy Tales is a platform dedicated to empowering its readers on different aspects of womanhood and motherhood. Read more motherhood experiences of Kenyan moms here. Connect with Mummy Tales on: FACEBOOK l YOU TUBE l INSTAGRAM l TWITTER
Image by Marc Pascual from Pixabay
Hello friends, and welcome back to Mummy Tales where I share different motherhood stories by Kenyan moms. In case you missed the last story of Betty Mueni, a mom who is still going through complications from a Caeserean section, you can read it here. Today I feature the story of one mom who quit her high-paying job, and who says she had good reasons for it. This is her story:
“I had always wanted to have a well-paying job, and when I was finally headhunted for one, I was ecstatic. The job was slow at first, and only paid based on the hours one worked. With time, as the clientele grew, the hours grew as well, and so did the pay. It reached a point where I made so much money that I was even able to comfortably support a friend who was going through a rough time. I supported her with weekly shopping and upkeep, and I never had to ask my husband for money.
Then along came a long-awaited pregnancy. One that I had prayed for earnestly. But the pregnancy was a difficult one. My colleagues only saw me after the first trimester was over because I had kept myself hidden in a workspace where I could gag, drink my lemon water and eat my ginger cookies in peace. I had terrible terrible nausea.
Anyway, as time went on, I realized one thing – I could not continue with the job after the baby was born. The workload was just too much (even before I got pregnant it was still a lot but I managed). I got more and more tired every day, and the work just became harder and harder. All this time the money was still rolling in (lots of it actually). Shopping for the baby and booking for delivery in a private hospital was not a problem at all.
But I just couldn’t do it.
I eventually tendered my resignation and though my boss was disappointed, she understood. I then proceeded on maternity leave, never to return, having left the most lucrative gig I had ever had.
What informed my decision? Well, I had an older daughter at the time, and I hardly saw her because of my job. I would drop her at school on the way to work, and would get home just as she was finishing her homework and dinner. While pregnant, I was always too tired to sit with her, leaving her to the nanny.
As most kids would, she reacted, even punching my tummy hard one day. My long hours were not helping her one bit. I remember for almost one year, I couldn’t tell what my daughter’s life was all about as I was absent in her life because I was always working.
Something had to give – and it was the job. Though there was the option of flexi time for a few months after returning from my maternity leave, I knew that once I resumed normal working hours, I would have to leave both my children under the prolonged care of the nanny as I worked. I felt as though the job was standing in the way of parenting my children the way I desired. So I gave it up.
It’s been seven years since.
I must admit that sometimes I still look back with nostalgia remembering how ‘loaded’ I was those days. But not once have I ever regretted my decision.
Nowadays, I do consultancies that allow me to spend time with my two children, though of course they do not pay as much as the job I quit. I’ve never gone back to regular employment despite receiving a few enticing offers which I’ve turned down. The loss of income is nothing compared to watching my children grow and spend time with them.”
What do you think about this mom’s decision? How about you? Have you ever faced a situation as a mother, where you had to make a difficult decision? You can email me on maryanne@mummytales.com with your story.
Thanks for reading. You may also like to see the video below.
Mummy Tales is a blog that contains lots of helpful articles that will help you navigate your motherhood journey. Feel free to search the blog for other experiences of Kenyan moms that may teach you a thing or two. You can also follow me on Facebook, You Tube, Twitter and Instagram.
*Image by Bokang Ratsuba from Pixabay
In this article, I feature the story of Betty Mueni, a 33 year old mother of two who is currently undergoing the throes of complications from a caeserean section. So what exactly happened? This is Betty’s story, in her own words.
“My second pregnancy was easier than my first, save for a few issues here and there to do with gestational diabetes and high blood pressure readings, both of which were managed well.
Having delivered my firstborn daughter vaginally, I was 100% sure that I would deliver my second child vaginally as well.
On 10 August 2020, I went for my last check up. I was 41 weeks pregnant. My blood pressure (BP) had been a little bit high in my last visit and with my history of gestational diabetes, the doctor booked me for induction early the following morning.
On 11 August 2020 at 6am, I was given my first set of medication. By 2pm, I had still not started experiencing any pain. However, the foetal heartrate monitoring machines noted that my baby’s heart rate was not normal.
At 7pm, while waiting for the second set of medication, the doctor came in with some not-so-good news. My baby needed to be removed immediately. In less than five minutes, I gave my consent for surgery –something that I was completely unprepared for. I was so scared!
I was quickly wheeled into the theatre and in no time, my son was delivered via caesarean section. He cried normally, was received by the Paediatrician, and I saw him before he was taken away.
Then it was time to close my tummy.
I however sensed that something was not right because the doctor kept on complaining about something I could not understand. It is only later on I learned that my platelets were low, that my blood was not clotting, that’s why he was having a hard time closing me up. Nevertheless, the team managed the situation and I was discharged after three days.
Two weeks later when I went for my scheduled appointment with the Gynaecologist, I mentioned that I was feeling like there was something hard and painful in my stomach. The Gynaecologist examined me and referred me for a pelvic scan. Since it was already late, she instructed me to send the results via WhatsApp.
As I was doing the pelvic scan, the look on the face of the Radiologist told me that all was not well. I was later to be informed that I had a haematoma (an abnormal collection of blood outside of a blood vessel) of about 517 ml. I sent the results to my Gynaecologist as instructed and went home.
On reaching home at about 8pm, the Radiologist called me and told me that I needed to go to hospital, that she had already spoken to the Gynaecologist on call about my case. She mentioned about the possibility of me going back to the theatre.
I immediately rushed to hospital, while in a state of panic and anxiety. At the hospital, the Gynaecologist on call sent me to the general doctor who prescribed some medication, saying that the clot would clear. He asked me to return after seven days for review.
When I shared this information with my regular Gyanaecologist, she advised me to go home and return after seven days as advised, but from her tone, I sensed that she was not very much at ease about it.
Seven days later (now three weeks post-partum), I returned to hospital for review where I was told that the clot had reduced to 350 ml. The fluid was still a lot and very risky for me.
After discussing with the Gynaecologist, she referred me to an interventional Radiologist, who would help drain the blood clot without me having to go to theater.
This was yet another complicated procedure that involved drilling some tubes through my stomach, guided by an ultrasound machine, while the draining of the blood continued through tubes. I stayed with the tubes for two weeks at home, which were draining the blood. I managed to drain 260ml.
When I returned to hospital, a scan showed that the clot was now remaining 40ml. The doctor said that this would be absorbed by the body. The tubes were removed and I was relieved that my troubles were over and I could concentrate on my baby. I even started taking a 20-minute evening walk.
But trouble was yet to strike again when I started feeling intense pain in my tummy. A trip to the hospital and a scan showed that I had another hematoma, which now had pus of about 25ml around the CS wound.
Before the doctor could even determine the method the pus would be drained, it burst open😧! This called for emergency surgery and I was wheeled back to theatre. I was nine weeks postpartum. The procedure went well and the pus was drained, though the wound could not be completely closed. It was dressed and I was wheeled back to ward to recover.
Disaster would strike yet again when barely two hours later, I start actively bleeding from the wound! This had to be addressed immediately to prevent excessive blood loss. This was yet another very painful and teary ordeal. Thankfully, all went well.
As I share this story, I have an open wound around the part of the CS incision. I go for wound dressing everyday for up to two weeks when the wound will be closed.
I hope, trust and believe that this will be the end of these complications. It has really been a bumpy road – not forgetting the challenges of a newborn – colic, the cries and a flu in in between. How I have made it this far is only God. But I still have my smile on and I’ve learnt to live one day at a time.”
And that is Betty’s story. We pray for her complete healing and recovery. Did you experience a childbirth complication? Write to me at maryanne@mummytales.com
You may also like to see Mary’s inspiring story below:
Mummy Tales is a blog that contains lots of helpful articles that will help you navigate your motherhood journey. Feel free to search the blog for other experiences of Kenyan moms that may teach you a thing or two. You can also follow me on Facebook, You Tube, Twitter and Instagram.
Hello friends! Hope you’ve been keeping well. So, today I’d like to share with you my review of a body butter that I’ve been using for a couple of months now. This is the Tricia’s Naturals Body Butter, a ‘Made in Kenya’ product 🙂 .
For starters, I absolutely love the packaging. That’s the first thing that attracted me to it. I particularly love the jar that it comes in (I got this body butter in the old packaging, which has since changed into a more colorful one which is just as fab!). Something that’s well packaged and branded makes me think that the product is good, at least that’s how I usually look at it 🙂
As for the scent, it’s warm, not strong and just a polite mild. It’s a nice smell that intimately stays with you all day long. It’s a vanilla-ish scent, and you can never really go wrong with vanilla. So what are the ingredients?
Does it keep my skin moisturized? Absolutely! My skin is left well moisturized and I do not need to reapply frequently. I would also highly recommend this for the elbows and the back of the heels.
Those are my views about this product. It’s definitely one that I would recommend. You can get it for Sh1,450 on Tricia’s Naturals here. If you do get to use it, let me know your thoughts about it.
Thanks for reading! Do you have a ‘Made in Kenya’ product that you’d like me to review? You can reach me on maryanne@mummytales.com
You may also be interested in Irene’s story below:
Mummy Tales is a platform dedicated to empowering its readers on different aspects of womanhood and motherhood. Read more motherhood experiences of Kenyan moms here. Connect with Mummy Tales on: FACEBOOK l YOU TUBE l INSTAGRAM l TWITTER
Moms, I have a friend who has no issue with her house girl returning to her home ‘kinda drunk’ on Sundays from her day off. She is also okay with the same girl nursing her hangover on Monday mornings and starting her work a bit late. This is her story.
My friend has two children: a 10-year-old daughter and a 5-year-old son. She is a career mom with quite a demanding job, so she needs the stability of a house girl at home. My friend has been with this house girl for four years now. Before that, she had long stopped counting the house girl turnover when they reached 20. She had had her fair share of house girl drama.
So, her current house girl is very good. She does her work quite well. She doesn’t need to be supervised, doesn’t need to keep being reminded to do stuff. Doesn’t need to keep being instructed on her chores. She is clean, very thorough and cooks delicious meals. She manages her time well. She understands my friend’s children. She understands the needs of the household. She also understands my friend -her employer. She basically has all the qualities you’d be looking for in a house girl. She simply gets it. She’s not perfect of course, but she’s close to it.
And that’s why my friend lets her house girl get away with that ‘thing of coming home tipsy’ after her day off and sleeping it off on Monday mornings. The girl loves her tipple, no doubt. And she made that clear from day one, right when she was being interviewed for the job. She told my friend that it was very important that she takes alcohol on her day off because it makes her happy. She nevertheless assured my friend that she would never have trouble with her work.
Now, my friend was very shocked to hear this. She had never encountered such upfront honesty before. But for all the troubles she’d gone through with house girls, she thought of giving the girl a try.
Well, it’s now four years later and for all the peace of mind she’s had in her home with this house girl, she says it has been worth it. It is something she has been willing to accommodate.
So, when the girl returns on Sunday evening from her day off, tipsy, she usually goes straight to her room and doesn’t come out till the following day after the children have gone to school and the parents have gone to work.
My friend and her house girl have this arrangement where my friend prepares breakfast on Monday mornings because, well, the girl is nursing a hangover and needs to sleep in a little longer.
But once she wakes up, she does her work perfectly all week long, with such dedication and commitment. And that’s why my friend has for the last four years learned to accommodate the alcohol bits from her house girl. By the way, neither my friend nor her husband partake alcohol.
And that’s my friends’ story. Do you have a comment to share about it? How about you? What compromises might you have had to make with your house girl for the sake of peace of mind, as long as she does her work well? Share in the comments section down below.
You may also like to see Martha’s story below.
Thanks for reading! Connect with Mummy Tales on: FACEBOOK l YOU TUBE l INSTAGRAM l TWITTER
