It’s been eight days since the yayas have left without any warning. I’ve mopped floors and washed dishes and clothes and packed away toys and cooked and uncluttered and bathed kids and ironed clothes and just worked myself to bits. I yelled a lot and spanked some. My back ached. Thankfully, the kids watched TV for a couple of hours early this evening while hubby cooked. It afforded me some shut-eye.
Now I sit here at my desk and try to will myself to work on my upcoming lecture, thanks to hubby’s prodding/yelling. It’s okay. Everybody’s tired.
Tomorrow, the other (better) yaya is coming back. We managed to convince her to conquer her fear (of us) and work again to pay off the 2 weeks worth of salary she has taken in advance. I pray that she decides to stay. I pray for strength to forgive her and to move on.
Tomorrow, things will get better.
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