And so this is Christmas--

On December 17, 2009, my ESOL class met for an hour before we all headed to the school’s Christmas party. I distributed old Christmas cards my family received through the years. I asked each one of them to read the language inside, in effect, teaching them vocabulary words like holiday, gift, joyous, joyful, message, carol, to name a few. A student proudly said that his card said “The massage of season is the birth of Heysoo.” (sic) I explained the difference between message and massage. As we all laughed and talked about the holidays, I asked each one of them what they were planning to do. I was sad about the answers they gave me. “I am not doing anything. I have no money.” “My family is not with me.” The only bright prospect was my student Leticia. She is a nanny. She drives a new car and she talked about her Christmas tree. It is artificial, with lots of ornaments and multi-color lights. They asked me if I have a Christmas tree and they were surprised that I did not. Yet. They all know I am waiting for my son to arrive from college. I would not have a tree until I have my son home.

As we talked about the holidays, I learned more about my students. Their circumstances may not be as different as mine 35 years ago when I experienced my first Christmas in the United States.

I worked on Christmas Eve and the office had a party. I was young and I did not cook so I was just basically a free loader. There were leftovers and I took home two fried chicken legs. I was by myself in the tiny apartment my sister and I shared. My friend came over with a fresh Christmas tree bought on sale. It looked tired and dry but we tried to revive it by putting it in a plastic bucket with water and all the pennies I had in a jar. Since I did not have any ornaments, we decided to hang Christmas cards on it. I named the tree “Teng-teng.” Filipinos love nicknames and this nickname was because the tree looked like a broomstick. It looked happy once we hung the Christmas cards but it was lacking some lights. So we were young and brilliant and decided to attach a cheap lampshade on top of the tree to light it up. The lamp was bought from a dime store, the shade was made of plastic and it was light enough to hang. It looked like an out-of-place Asian lantern hanging on a dry tree with Christmas cards all over it. As we sat to admire our work, we heard an explosion and then the tree was on fire!

My friend had the presence of mind to open the window, yes, for oxygen, no less, which of course made it worse. But at least he grabbed the burning tree, along with the lamp pulled in one second from the switch and shoved it out of the window. It landed with a loud thud on the sidewalk. It was late, it was cold, and we watched the burning tree in shock. Then we started laughing! We were proud that even though it caught fire, that it did not happen while I slept.

My friend left to be with his family and I went to sleep. I woke up at midnight with a feeling of intense homesickness. I have never spent Christmas by myself until this time. In Manila, there is a midnight dinner tradition. The terminology of this midnight dinner depends on who you are talking to. In my family, we call it “media noche,” literally meaning midnight. Others call it Noche Buena, “good night” but since Filipinos use “Buena” as “first” as in “Buena mano” (first hand), my family referred to New Year’s midnight dinner as Noche Buena. So today, every Filipino will refer to their Christmas dinner as Noche Buena.

My parents used to prepare the traditional “suman sa lihiya” (rice cake in lye water) for our media noche. There was always freshly grated coconut and ginger tea. I am not sure if my recollection is correct but I guess everything is big to a child so I will dare say that these sumans were as big as my forearm. The rice is soaked in water and lye water a day before they are wrapped in banana leaves wilted over open fire. My mom and dad would spend so much time wrapping each of these sumans lovingly and tying them with twine. The sumans resemble a tamale, only that these humble goodies, loved by the Filipinos, are made of sweet rice and wrapped in banana leaves. My mom owned a giant caldera, as big as the Ngoro-ngoro crater, and they would put the sumans in them, covered with water. My dad would build a fire and they would be boiled and simmered for a long, long time for the rice to have a gelatinous consistency.

My sisters and I would attend the misa de gallo, (mass at the crack of dawn) and on Christmas, after the midnight mass, my sisters and I would come home from church and we would all be singing merrily in front of our house waking up my parents in the process. Still, the sumans were cooking. My parents would take out a sample and spread the suman on the table. My mom would ceremoniously add sugar to the coconut, always, always, mentioning that that would prevent the coconut from getting rancid. Then she would cut the humungous suman in slices and we were in heaven. Nothing, nothing in my childhood memories of Christmas is more vivid than my Mom and Dad’s loving gesture of fixing these goodies for us to eat. Today, my sister Emma continues on with the tradition of making these goodies. She buys the sweet rice from the Filipino store, she buys the frozen grated coconut, she ties the sumans in silky thread and she puts them in the basket. And we love grabbing them and hiding them from each other because she does not make a lot. Sometimes she “hits the right note” but other times, they are off key and inedible. Regardless, I see and feel my parents through my sister’s efforts.

On my first Christmas media noche, I woke up to two stiff fried chicken legs, still wrapped in aluminum foil. I looked at them and my tears started. I was impossibly homesick, lonely, feeling sorry for myself.

As I told the story to my students, their expression was of disbelief. I told them that I did not come without an accent, without my own ignorance of the American idioms; certainly I had the whole immigrant experience. We learned the word “encourage” – I encouraged them to further their learning of the English language and of setting their sights onto bigger things; of educating themselves and their children. I told them a few “smart-aleck” remarks and explained what it meant. I had them practice “dramatic expressions,” like “shut up! For real?”, “Get out of town!” Then Armando had a question. What does “lol” meant? It meant “carcajar con fuerte” “Where did you see it?” “My friend in Internet.” So I taught them how to access the internet by drawing the PC screen on the blackboard. I came home that night and created Yahoo address for one of my students, Jose. I learned later he spoke Korean as he works in the kitchen of a huge Korean supermarket.

Then we all went to attend the school Christmas party and have some dinner. As I looked around me, I saw a lot of faces I did not know and others whom I knew from the past years that I taught. I realized that I was just like them, no more no less.

I was an immigrant like them; only I spoke my host country’s language and learned a few others along the way. I heard a conversation behind me and one of the students was saying something “…chicken, gallo o gallina” and he looked at me “what chicken es boy or girl?” I turned around and responded, “La gallina es la hembra, la “hen”. El gallo es el macho, lo que se llama “rooster.” El pollo es el producto, tal como la vaca es biftek o beef en ingles, el pollo es de carne de gallina, ok?” Their eyes bugged out. The “china” spoke Spanish. And I smiled and said, “I told you, watch TV and you will speak English fluently. Did you think I learned it by just wishing I did? I watch telenovelas!” They were inspired.

Then I excused myself to get more pollo con arroz Peruano. Feliz pascuas!

Lying to my Husband, nothing to do with Fedex guy!

This holiday season is an opportune time to confess one of my greater sins, “Thou shall not lie.” It all started a couple of years ago around this time of the year. As we prepared our Christmas list and discuss the holiday party we hold each year, I saw my husband stuff the Christmas envelope with money for our cleaning lady with three crisps hundred dollars – a week and two extras as a thank-you for all the hard work she did to clean our house come hell or high water.

Up until Kris was nine, we had a live-in housekeeper. Husband (HB) told me that he does not value cleaning house as an attribute that I can take pride in. Can you imagine how devastated I was that he would actually have someone keep the house for us? Yes I was so distraught that I was grinning from ear to ear. First of all, I am hopelessly disorganized. I am a slob, despite my best intentions. At one time in my life, my baby sister threatened to take a photo of my closet and send it to my friends to shame me. It did not work. An ex-boyfriend who saw my room asked me, “How does a very well dressed woman come out of this mess?’ I did learn a few things when I had a roommate who was in the armed forces; all hangers shall face the wall of the closet, all similar color clothing shall be next to each other, fold towels, and do not roll the sheets in the closet. I did clean my apartment but my tidy genes were in the off position. I did not have that obsessive compulsive behavior to stack the yogurt according to flavor in alphabetical order in the fridge or line my pairs of shoes like I was selling them on a yard sale. If there was a closet, I throw the shoes in there and fish them out later. Close the door, tightly and put up a sign. “open at your own risk.” What is the big deal?

When I was a teen-ager, I had an aunt who would arrange and re-arrange my shelves of clothing. She could not believe the disarray, day after day after day. But then I had another aunt who loved the fact that I “took after her” in being disorganized. My late aunt was educated and independently wealthy and she had servants in her house. So I knew from her that if I were educated, and hopefully half as wealthy, I could pay someone to keep my secret affliction of being a slob.

So what could be the downside of HB hiring someone to take care of the house? This woman folded the fitted sheets like she worked for Bloomingdale’s linen department and HB was my hero when he told me he does not put value in housekeeping talents. Is he smart or what? But even he was not prepared for the major production that turned the kitchen upside down while I fix something complicated like omellettes. Every pot and pan are out when I am doing some concoction in the kitchen and he is well aware that it is a “hazmat” zone should he insist on being in the kitchen with me.

I am not a Benihana chef but I can make knives fly. When I am done, I am covered with what I am cooking. So, if I fix omelette, chances are I am smeared with eggs, and I might have slivers of cheese in my hair but then he values my penchant for presentation. The omelette will have some berries on the side and a burnt toast to go with it. He has not stopped telling me with great affection, “You are such a slob!” And I would reply, “Thank you!”

We were very lucky to find this charming young woman Coco after the Colombian housekeeper was let go. Coco would live with us and take care of our house and be our son’s caregiver. She was young enough with excellent eyesight that she could turn Kris’ dental appliance without stabbing the roof of his mouth. However, she eventually got married and could only come once a week. On this particular busy Holiday season week, she called me and told me she could not come. She and her family had to go to her husband’s state. She said she was not sure if or when she would be able to come back.

I eyed the cash on the kitchen table. An inspiration hit me right there and then. You see, I have been observing these ladies all along. I knew exactly what they did. So, I had this bright idea – if I clean the house myself, without my husband knowing that the cleaning girl left, then I can keep all that cash! All I had to do was make sure it was cleaned the way Coco cleaned my house. Voila, I just found a way to have extra money for Christmas. Greed was good.

When my son came home, he found me to the point of hysteria. I was hauling the vacuum, I was tripping all over the place and I was hyperventilating. When he asked me what was going on, I was incoherent. I told him what I was doing but I was also becoming more and more scared of my scam! I was afraid to get the trash out of the house for fear of my husband would come home and ask me what I was doing with the trash so I asked my son to take it out, quickly, as I pushed it into his hands and pushed him outside the front door. I also put all the trash from the bathrooms in his room. He was so spooked, thinking that I have absolutely gone mad. There was $300 at stake and I could not let the chance go by. It would have been irresponsible. So I just walked away from my son and frantically went about mopping the floor.

I have put away all the cleaning implements when my husband walked in the door. The house was spotlessly clean. I have calmed down. I turned on the charm. I was feeling confident until he made a casual comment. He asked if Coco came today. What a stupid question, I thought, Jeez if he suspected what I did, I was going to pee my pants. I said, borrowing his technique, “Why do you ask?” He said, “There is a pine needle right here,” pointing to a microscopic pine needle on the kitchen floor, which I would have needed a magnifying glass to see. I was so spooked but I had to say something quickly so I said, “It is your fault.” “How so?” “Because you will not buy Coco a good vacuum cleaner. The poor girl is vacuuming the floor with an antiquated vacuum.” That weekend, we bought a brand new vacuum cleaner.

Coco called me later and said she regrets it but she would not be able to come any time soon from Nebraska. So I told her it was okay. I called her sister, who used to help Coco and told her the situation and that henceforth, I am Coco. I also told her that from time to time, I might need her to sub for her “sister.” She agreed.

For the first few weeks, I was engulfed with such paranoia that I would be found out and I made sure to go over the list that I have prepared for Coco to make sure that “she” was doing what was on the list. Then one evening, I followed my husband upstairs. Don’t ask but it was as if by following him and distracting him, I was hoping he would not be paying attention to the cleanliness of the house.

This particular evening, he went to the bathroom and I realized that I did not dust his night table so while he was in the bathroom, I frantically wiped the glass with the hem of my skirt! Then I heard him, “Uh oh! Coco forgot to clean my soap dish!” CRAPOLA! I said, “Oh she did not feel well today, so it was her sister who came and I will make sure to mention it to her.” "Oh, okay." YES!

The next day, I called Coco’s sister, “Please apologize to ‘Sir’?” She laughed loudly. In the Philippines, the domestic staff address their employers “Sir and Ma’am,” something I cringe at but I use the term to be facetious. “What was I supposed to have done?” “You came to our house to clean yesterday and you did not clean the soap dish!” Her laughter was so loud I had to hold the receiver away from my ears. Then I started laughing with her. Then she emailed to Sir, apologizing and saying she would do better next time.

Every week during the first two months, my son would confront me, “Mom, why are you doing this? When are you going to come out clean to Dad?” So I explained to him my real reason. I am helping to send a great niece to nursing school in Manila and this extra money makes it a lot easier for me to do it. I told him that I am not just pretending to be the housekeeper; that I am actually doing the job and I do not put the money away until I am sure I did a good job.

Then I had a bright idea: instead of living in fear not only of being found out but of my son outing me from the broom closet, no pun intended, I proposed something to him. For a fee, would he do the vacuuming from me since he comes home early from school? I would pay him $10 a week and I would give him incentives of up to $5 if he does a good job. I was buying his silence, his loyalty, and his ability to do a better job than I could. He was sympathetic to the ‘cause.” I told him he would in essence be helping a cousin of his continue with school by helping me. He agreed.

Every week, he would vacuum the whole house after school before he does his homework. He would be done when I get home. I would check his work and if he did an acceptable job, I would hand him his $10 and at other times I would tell him he did an excellent job and give him additional $2. And yet there were times when I told him he did not deserve to be in my employ!

At the end of the first semester of my thriving business, I had a bad case of tennis elbow. Furthermore, it was our peak season at my regular job as the end of the federal fiscal year approached. I was not doing a great job in my part time job as a cleaning lady or as what Coco’s sister and I term “G-5” job. G-5 is the visa given to domestic helpers by the US Immigration. I was doing a very bad job and it showed! Sir made a comment that Coco seemed to be doing a sloppy job and I reminded him that when we were hiring a cleaning lady, he told me that her performance was going to be measured against my standard. And I told him that by my standards, Coco was doing a perfect job and that I trust her that I could leave cash and jewelry without having to worry. I also reminded him that she only comes once a week and the rest of the week, I seem to be single-handedly taking up the slack!

That summer, we returned from vacation and I forgot where I put my ring that he bought me when I graduated. I could not replace it because it was custom made. I was frantic. I could not know how to tell him the ring was missing. I was concerned that I would have to say two sentences that would lead to my demise: 1) I lost the ring; 2) there is no Coco. Why was I afraid? First, if the ring was lost and the only “stranger” in this house is Coco, then she must have stolen it. But how could she steal it when she does not come anymore? I started to sweat like never before. I prayed hard—to the patron saint of lost minds and lost causes and lost stuff—Saint Anthony of Padua. I went straight to the point, “Saint Anthony, please help me find the damn ring or I will not be able to send my niece to college.” He listened. I found it under a basket of soaps in the linen closet. I would not have put it in there, I swear. Who da man? Saint Anthony was da man. “He the saint!”

I became good in cleaning and better in my impersonation. When HB would make a comment about something not clean enough, and I would get defensive, my son, if he was present would give me the “eye” to remind me to just go along instead of saying things like, “Well, I will tell the very ignorant and stupid cleaning lady how horrible of a job she is doing!” My son said, “Mom, just say you would tell Coco, okay. You do not need to be smart with Dad, what’s wrong with you?”

I also took notes from HB for his special requests and he sees me leave the note on the kitchen table for Coco. When I would come home to clean, I would check the note on the table. When there are new things in the house, HB would ask me how Coco liked it and I would do an impersonation of Coco, complete with her accent and he would always find it adorable, not my impersonation, but the way Coco spoke with a Visayan accent.

When Sir would complain about how the bed was not made according to his liking, I would ask him to show me so “I can show Coco specifically how it should be made.”

Being a best-practice skilled cleaning lady is not that easy. I had to do a research on the best green cleaning agents and how to clean “smartly.” To that extent, I was able to convince my husband to buy a Romba (robotic vacuum) for Coco, which at this time has assumed the identity of her mother. I do not remember how or why but at some point, when things were bad, I had the nerve to tell him that Coco just did not want to continue cleaning our house. I told him we were complaining too much and she left for the Philippines with her children. I said she was nice enough to ask her Mom to take over so as not to put me on a bind. From thereon, the cleaning lady became Manna.

The change of character was brilliant. Manna is older and would forget all kinds of things to do! She was not that energetic. (I mean the “character” I built for Manna versus the real person). More importantly, she does not speak English well so all communications to Manna had to go through me. Manna would not speak to HB. I was kind to “her” because she was doing me a great favor and I always forgave her infractions. One time, HB made a comment that Manna had not been vacuuming for months. Excuse me? I made a point of dramatically checking the rug in the living room. I knew I vacuumed the damn thing!

When he saw me I said, “Okay, I know she cleaned this rug and I brought in my plant so I will tell her that you said that she is doing a crappy job.” He said, “Well, maybe you can tell her in a kind way.” “There is no kind way to tell her that you think she just takes your money in exchange for a crappy job.” “You know you can do better than that!” “Well, I am afraid she would quit. She is doing us a favor, you know.” Silence. I added, “She cleans once a week. You pay her once a week, not 24/7.” “As I recall, you do not clean after yourself.” I had to add some smart-aleck remark to make my point. Go figure.


That weekend, while we were driving to go somewhere, he proposed an idea. He was increasingly becoming unhappy with Manna’s increasingly poor performance. (Jeez, Louise, I was getting cortisone shots and I was not getting a break from this guy! And I am working so hard at my usual job) He said that perhaps he should look for a replacement of Manna. I lost it, in a big way and gave him a "Munam." I hissed and wailed like a cat being slaughtered. “How dare you! You are so bleeping picky and you are a total jerk. You know what, I will hate her replacement! I will not trust her. You are an asshole. You think you own the world for $100 cheap dollars you are paying Manna and you know what, I will tell her that you think she is stupid and a loser and then she would quit before I can even tell her that she is being replaced. The replacement will steal my stuff and my jewelry and I will never know about it and you know what else, if I lose Manna, I am warning you, I WILL NOT CLEAN THAT HOUSE! You are heartless! You are so petty, keep your $100 dollars! TRUST ME, YOUR HOUSE WILL BE SO MESSY AND I WOULD NOT TOUCH A BLEEPING THING!!” Shock. Silence. He stopped the car.

He calmed me down and said, “Okay, Manna stays. Boy, you do look out for the interest of Manna, don’t you?” OMG, in more ways than one! Wait, is he suspecting something?

Eventually, I started to take Wednesday afternoons off so it became much easier to manage my “theater performances.” But there were times when I knew I was a hairline away from being found out. In the meantime, I diligently put the money away so that my great niece can stay in the dorm at Saint Louis University in Baguio City and pursue her dream of becoming a nurse. Her family is of modest means and I am trying to change her future. I needed the extra income to do this. I wish I could say that I wanted to confess my secret and get it out of my chest but it was not the case. Years ago, I learned my lesson the hard way.

Years before Coco or Manna after the Colombian left, we had a weekly lady who did a wonderful job. One day, she told me she needed to go back to Argentina because her father was sick. She was going to be away indefinitely. I took the money from the kitchen table and cleaned the house for two weeks. HB worked very, very long hours. I had the opportunity and the motive to clean the house. One Saturday, my husband and my son who was young at that time, and I ran some errands. One of those was to get money out of the ATM. As we sat in the car, my HB turned to me and asked, “Well, shall I get money for the cleaning lady?” My son, in his angelic voice said, “The lady has not been coming to the house.” He was seated between me and his Dad in the truck so I pinched him on the thigh to warn him. Instead he yelled, “Aw, Mommy, why did you pinch me?” BUSTED! HB never discussed it with me to save my face but there was no money for the Argentinian that week or the week after.

When I complained that I should be paid for doing the cleaning lady’s job, he told me that part of being married is keeping the house. Oh was I ever offended. First I told him how sexist he sounded and that I did not get married to clean some man’s house and that this is truly unacceptable and someone had to do it because I am not going to. He said, “Look for someone.” Meanwhile, the money disappeared from the table until the lady actually came back.

In any case, I learned my lesson that if I were to continue my dream for my great niece, that I would assume this responsibility until she was graduated without saying a word and without letting it out. When my husband told me that a firm in Massachusetts was offering him a job, I worried not of moving from the DC area but of “losing the cleaning lady.” Of course he would not consider leaving the law firm he is with. But it occurred to me that there might be a possibility one day of leaving the DC area altogether. While we are here, I could not, under any circumstances let myself be exposed. So I used my improvisation skills to avoid it. For instance, when HB would be sick on the day the cleaning lady would come, she would not make it in. When he would ask why Manna did not make it, I would tell him that I told her not to come so that he would not be disturbed.

The next day, I would ask how he was feeling. If he was not sure about whether he would come to work, the cleaning lady would not be sure either. If he stayed at home and asked me why she did not come I would say, “We already messed up her schedule, she would come next week.” I had a repertoire of reasons should there be a conflict of interest – “It was windy today and Manna’s husband is not used to driving in windy weather.” Really. If I knew in advance he would be home, I would have Manna’s daughter to send me an email that I made up myself, replete with grammatical errors and have her send it back to me as a fresh message that I could forward or relay to HB later with an excuse as to why Manna would prefer a different day.

Never, ever, has he seen her clean the house but the house was nearly spotless as I learned more and more how to do the job better. When I would go on vacation, I would call Manna’s daughter and ask to come and do the job. I have specific instructions not to make it so unreasonably clean that I could not follow her example.

When we would all go on vacation, I would have someone do it for me so that we can expect to come home to a clean house. There is always someone wanting to make that $100 a day. A friend of mine told me, “Everybody wants Manna’s job!” Meanwhile, I had in my bank account a couple thousand dollars to get my great niece through two years of college. Life was good. Manna was getting complacent.

Then All HELL BROKE LOOSE:

It all started rather innocently. Husband (HB) and I were remodeling our bathroom. We had to remove wall paper. It was a mess. Manna was supposed to come that Wednesday. So far, no problem. Then the following Saturday, as we continued to work on the bathroom, he found a piece of wall paper, no bigger than a small “Post-it Note,” and proceeded to announce, “See, Manna did not clean the bathroom. She is not doing her job.” I said, “She cleaned that bathroom!” “Did you see her do it?” “Yes, she was kneeling on that floor cleaning the mess. “Well, she did not do a good job.” “A little piece of paper and you are up in arms?” “Well, I am paying her, am I not?” “We are paying her are we not, not just you, but we!” “Ok, well, does she understand English?” “Maybe not, she is stupid that she does not understand English. Do you understand Tagalog?” “Okay, well, does she speak English?” “NO SHE IS THE MOST STUPID PERSON IN THE PLANET! Of course she can speak and understand English, what did you think, she is some kind of a cave woman who comes to clean your palace?” “Well, here is what I will do. I will take off on Wednesday so I can speak to her about how to clean the house.”

If there was ever a moment in my life where I felt trapped this was it. I just had to be strong. My mind was doing Math very quickly. I was making sure that I could still send my great niece to college without my “Manna” job. However, my emotion got the better of me so I screamed, “You do not have to take off on Wednesday, and you are talking to Manna!” His face showed his confusion. “What did you say?” “YOU DO NOT HAVE TO TAKE OFF on Wednesday! YOU ARE TALKING TO THE CLEANING LADY!!” Silence. Then, “You are the cleaning lady? You are Manna?” Then I heard peals of laughter. His. Not mine. I heard myself wailing and not because I was being slaughtered. All the omission (note, I do not use the word lying) through the months have caught up with me. It was like a dam breaking. I was crying and I heard him say, “No wonder she does a sloppy job!” Then I laughed. And I cried. And I laughed. He sat down on the other end of the dining table “How long have you been doing this?” “Months. A year, since Coco left. I don’t know.” “You have been lying to me?” “I was not sleeping with the FedEx guy you know, I was only cleaning the bleeping house.” “Why are you doing it?” I was choked. One thing that I hate was humiliating my own family. We Filipinos are proud and we work hard for our money. “I am sending Jenny to nursing school.” “Your allowance is not enough?” “No, this is more expensive.” “I need to think this one through. We will talk about it later. But you are right, this is not so bad but still I cannot believe you could not come to me and ask for help.”

I was actually relieved. It felt like a great burden was lifted off my back. I did not feel sorry about being outed. I was getting tired of doing it and having to build this great BS story about how Manna reacted to new things she finds in my house, I was getting annoyed of having to answer questions about how her family was doing. I just did not understand why I have to know what Manna got for her birthday or something like that. At some point, I said, “If you want to know about those things, call her yourself and ask her. I am usually not the confidant of cleaning people and I do not generally socialize with them.” Really.

The next morning, as we sat down for our morning coffee, HB said he wanted to talk first about the cleaning lady situation. He said he felt that I lied to him and he was sad that I could not go to him to tell him how much I needed money; he asked if our son knew about it; that he and son could have helped to clean the house. No he did not just say that! Are you kidding me? Then it was my turn.

First I asked him a few questions: 1) Is the house clean on Wednesday evenings when he comes home? Yes. 2) Is he getting any value from this cleaning service? Yes. 3) Is the price she is charging reasonable? Yes.

Then I said, pay up the cleaning person whether it was someone else or me.

I told him that I was not just pretending to be the cleaning lady; I actually do the job and I think I am generally doing a good job. I also reminded him that WE were only paying for a day and the rest of the week, I personally maintain the house. I said, “I am doing this because first, I like doing it. I find it rather therapeutic for me. I would rather clean than go shopping on my afternoon off. Also, I am helping someone realize her dreams. And I do not just take the money; I work hard for it. “

He then made a mistake. He said, “I feel that maintaining the house is a family thing and our son and I can help.” I said, “Excuse me, do you not know that you are one of the laziest people in this house? That you leave your newspaper and you do not lift your finger at anything here?” Then he responded: “You were advancing your case until you attacked me personally.” To which I replied “Then to hell with you and your money. Oh by the way, half of that money is mine because you are not the only one who works in this house and maybe I should remind you, I do not make minimum wage. So if you think I am stealing from you, keep your piddly little change and I take mine. And I quit!”

He said, “No, you do not understand. All I am saying is that I do not know why you had to lie about it…” “All you are saying is you are too cheap. You are saying you would rather give the money to others than help me help my family, that is what you are saying. You told me years ago when the Argentinean left that you considered cleaning the house part of what I signed up when I got married. Well, I am not a maid. And I do not deserve to be humiliated like this, ok? So if you do not want to give me this job, I will go and earn the money somewhere else. I will take a part time job and maybe even clean other people’s houses.”

I was full of it but I was going after the gold. I have become good at this that I know I could clean somebody’s townhouse. I will wear my tight jeans, load my Mercedes with cleaning agents and a vacuum and I will be a smart cleaning lady because I have a college degree and a post grad certificate. I know the best green cleaning products, the best dusting rags, the best hardwood floor cleaners and I do not mind cleaning a litter box. I can even help people’s kids write a term paper on any subject they choose. This can be my other career yet and I would be proud doing it.

He continued, “I thought about this and I think your reasons for doing this is noble. I only wish you had come to me to explain that you needed more money. " "Excuse me but will you please cut the bullshit?" "Let me finish." "No you let me talk. I work for the money. When all is said and done, I worked my butt off to clean this messy house."

He was preempting me, talking as though I was not. "Since you are determined to make the extra money, I decided to let you keep the job. You can do it for as long as you want. When you get tired of it, we will hire someone to do it. (Get out of town, shut up, really:)? But I just have a question, he continued, "Why did you ask me to start giving Manna gas money over the summer?”

It was my turn to laugh nervously. “Well, since the prices of gas was high, I thought it was a good opportunity to get a $10 weekly raise. What the heck, I buy a nice lunch, ok?”
He said, “Okay, we will continue to pay this cleaning service $100 a week. The gas money is cut off. The money will be electronically transferred to the maid’s account every 5th of the month.” I protested, “Let it be clear, she is not ever going to be referred to as the ‘maid.’ She is either the cleaning service or cleaning lady. You are not to utter a word that would degrade this woman.”

Epilogue:

1. The contract is still in force.
2. At times, when Sir wanted something done, he would say, “Whoever is cleaning this house, will you please tell her to move this and clean behind it?”
3. At times, the cleaning lady would say, “That is not part of weekly maintenance cleaning. This is remodeling debris, you clean it yourself. She will absolutely refuse to do that.”

Years before, Sir would ask me if Coco or Manna thanked us for a Christmas bonus. I would say, “She is a cleaning lady, she is not a PhD, she does not know Letitia Baldridge. She does not send formal embossed thank you notes. She said thank you and that’s it.”

This year, on my first year of being Manna, I went to Sir and said, “We have a tradition of giving the cleaning service a fat Christmas bonus. She will be happy with time and a half.” Sir said, “Please be advised, the cleaning lady deserves double time.” Cleaning lady said, "Thank you for your generosity. Please extend my warm greetings to your beautiful wife as well." Some cleaning lady is going to be smiling all the way to the bank.

Some young woman in Baguio, Philippines is going to be sleeping in her tiny dorm bed, warm under her purple sheets and purple quilt, in her purple night gown. She made the Dean’s list and she was “capped” last summer. I, on the other hand, continue on with my task of cleaning the hardwood floor and kitchen, with a fervent prayer that my heart continue to beat for a little longer as I continue to hold the hands of others who need it for a little while longer…