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Slave to the help

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Since the birth of our third child a year ago, I have made it clear to my husband that we are never leaving Hong Kong. Not, that is, until our children are old enough to cook, clean and babysit themselves. There are several reasons for this.

My husband I and met and married here, our children were all born here, my family live here, our children go to great schools here, and there is potential here for both of our careers. But the main reason is that I cannot live without our helpers. There. I said it.

And yes, I know, I did say helpers - plural. Don't get me wrong, I could live without two helpers (please leave the bashing of the spoilt expatriate brat until the end) but survive without one? I don't think so.

I have three children, the eldest being just five years old. I work part time. My husband works crazy hours and sometimes weekends, and he also travels. Without a helper, when would I find the time to write? And it's writing that keeps me sane. That reminds me there is a life outside changing nappies, and three-year-olds scribbling on the wall, and five-year-olds not wanting to do their sight-word practice.

The childcare I can handle. The three together I can handle. I am their mother after all. Me and three at the swimming pool - super water fun for everyone.

I can take three to the goldfish market on a Saturday afternoon by public transport.

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